Ω ΑΓΑΠΗΜΕΝΟ ΚΕΡΙ, ΛΑΜΨΕ ΣΤΗΝ ΨΥΧΗ ΜΟΥ ΑΠΟΨΕ.

ortho had shown a keen interest to that candle ever since he first heard about it. it was different, it was new. so naturally, ortho just had to see it for himself. twas' the quest of a wandered, to discover.

luck. was it?

....

the android walked alongside jinx. a pomefiore student, known well enough by ortho, as he had no complaints about their pairing.

a hum of perfect pitch carried as audio to their venture to the alter. but then, something curious.

as ortho peered around their surroundings he took notice of candle wax, dribbled onto the floor in a stretching line. it had clearly been done some time before, evident by the wax's hardened state but... who would do this?

one hand placed onto jinx's arm. he wished to alert the other incase he didn't see. simultaneously, ortho would follow the wax's trail by eye. the shroud himself wasn't bound by the limitations of human eyes and so he zoomed into focus as he pleased.

it lead directly up... into savannaclaw's saloon!

with the conformation, ortho removed his hand and looked back to jinx. ❝ It seems savannaclaw is trying their hands at tricks... let's check it out! ❞ without any hesitance, ortho began to go off in the direction of the candle wax, possibly leaving jinx behind.

it took little to no time for ortho to enter the saloon, only to be met with a...colorful assault.

within a few seconds of entrance, glitter and glue suddenly swung at jinx and ortho both. they came in frequent waves, not even giving the two to think before the next.

ortho's systems were state of the art. as a result, they quickly detected something was wrong. something was broken.

ERROR! ERROR–!

ꜱʏꜱᴛᴇᴍ 𝗢𝗥𝗧𝗛𝗢 ᴅᴀᴍᴀɢᴇᴅ.

ᴍᴀʟꜰᴜɴᴄᴛɪᴏɴɪɴɢ ʟᴇᴅ ᴄᴏᴍᴘᴏɴᴇɴᴛꜱ

ᴍᴀʟꜰᴜɴᴄᴛɪᴏɴɪɴɢ ᴀᴜᴅɪᴏ ᴘʀᴏᴄᴇꜱꜱᴏʀ

the android's sight became obstructed by bright pink glitter and glue spread completely across his left eye.

but with the remnants of vision he had left, ortho detected a movement from behind the two. it was coming in fast. ortho swung his head back, only to take note of a BRICK swinging towards jinx's head before it was too late.

❝ JINX—! ❞ of course he would try and reach out, save the poor soul but the effort was fruitless. before he knew it, the brick had made impact with jinx's skull and ortho slipped on thick mounds of glue underneath them.

unfortunately, the large crash to the wooden floor only served to jumble ortho's systems more.

it was too much.

ᴇɴɢᴀɢɪɴɢ ɪɴ ᴇᴍᴇʀɢᴇɴᴄʏ ᴘʀᴏᴛᴏᴄᴏʟ.

sending S0S message to idia shroud...

ortho's previously spontaneous, moving body lost all life as his eyes when pitch black.

In truth, the candle altar wasn’t originally of any particular interest to Jinx. It evoked a feeling that can only be described as “same shit, different day.” Things around school were always so chaotic, what was one more thing on top of the usual? They already had ghosts after all, and it can’t get more spooky than that.

Pairing up with Ortho was a stroke of luck in his opinion. There were too many people that would have made this experience like pulling teeth. He could imagine Rove dragging his feet and Ilam getting sidetracked by something irrelevant. This would be a quick in and out situation, as it seemed Ortho was eager to check the altar out. 

When the familiar flames of a candle were conspicuously missing from the altar and Jinx felt a gentle hand on his arm, he followed Ortho’s gaze to the trail of wax. His brow furrowed. Why would anyone have touched the candle? 

At the mention of Savanaclaw, Jinx grows weary. But he can’t stand still, because Ortho rushes off, eager to follow the trail. Jinx follows behind.

“Hey, Ortho, wait!” But he wasn’t slowing down for anyone or anything. He grumbled as he followed him into the Savanaclaw saloon. If Savanaclaw was doing something sneaky or underhanded, Jinx wanted none of it. He would have happily reported the candle stolen to the headmage and called it a day. 

That doesn’t happen. 

Instead, he is suddenly covered in… glue? And blinded by a shiny shower of multicolored glitter. They were basically being a milder equivalent of tarred and feathered. He reaches out to Ortho to try and grab him, pull him out of there so they could go clean up. He watches Ortho whip around wildly to face him.

“Wh-” Crack.

For a moment it doesn’t even hurt. He can’t even process the overwhelming sensation of a brick connecting with his skull. He loses consciousness in almost the same instant. 

For a while there’s nothing. It’s dark and he’s not quite asleep and not quite awake, but his eyes are heavy. It feels like an eternity before his eyelids flutter awake. 

“Or…tho…?” His voice is hoarse. 

His head throbs. His hand reaches its way up to touch the place he got hit and he hisses. When he pulls away he sees red. 

Shit. 

His vision is fuzzy and he has to blink a few times for that to clear up. He sits up slowly, and vaguely registers that he is also coated in glitter. Insult to injury in its most literal form. 

“Ortho, little guy, are you okay?” He reaches out to the glitter coated person lying next to him. When he got no response, he shifted so he could roll Ortho over onto his back. The guy was heavier than he looks. 

He bunched up the sleeves of his uniform and tried to rub the gunk off Ortho’s eyes. He must have been hit too. There would be hell to pay when the both of them got help, and no doubt Savanaclaw would cover the full cost. 

He managed to clean some of the glue off only to reveal… blackness where his eyes should be. Jinx stifled a scream. Was Ortho…? No. No, that couldn’t be it. 

“Ortho, wake up!” He shook him, “Hey, I don’t like this. Ortho, wake up!”

Ortho was total dead weight, and Jinx was getting more and more anxious by the second. In turn, his head only got fuzzier. How was he going to explain that Ortho died on his watch? How could something this awful happen while he was at school? He just wanted to learn magic. 

In a last ditch effort by the half-delirious pomefiore, he smacks Ortho across the face and subsequently hisses in pain as his hand collides with a skull full of metal. 

“Nothing happens much out there, huh?” Fishbone quill points idly towards the depths of an oceanic trench, the view of Mostro Lounge’s window wall. Sea whip and finger coral bloom from basalt rock, softly aglow by the establishment’s blue ambience. Ruggie gazes at the sea, then drifts his attention back towards the log book. “Ya don’t gotta fret about… I 'unno, underwater tornados or whatever.” 

Crinkling his nose, the hyena idly strums his fingers against the hostess stand. Typically, Azul would run him as a server. However, with a bad leg and an adamant refusal to take a leave, working as a host was the next best thing. “‘S’all cozy in here, like an aquarium.”

"Indeed," Jade answers with humor in his voice. "It's quite peaceful here."

Though most days it was hard to notice the tranquility beyond the glass walls. The nights spent in Mostro Lounge were often hectic, crowded, and noisy, especially as they rolled out the Halloween menu items. Exhilarating, Jade would even call the work. There was hardly ever any time to spend admiring the tranquil reef and all of its colors. Even the host's counter was busy greeting guests and scheduling reservations.

But there were always lulls. The middle of the week, and the early afternoon in particular. However, the Lounge today had been staffed for Halloween business, but the half-dozen students who murmured quietly amongst themselves across a scattering of scalloped booths meant half the staff went underutilized. Jade glances at his watch. Another hour and he'd have to start making cuts.

"When it comes to disasters, the land certainly has the sea beat. In fact, I had heard that just the other day, a lightning storm rolled in over the university suddenly." Eyes flicker downward toward Ruggie's leg, then back up to meet his eyes with a smile that is nothing but courteous.

"Speaking of disasters, that injury must be torment for one as active as yourself."

The candle has gone out.

The altar's candle lays abandoned upon the floorboard of Savanaclaw’s wooden saloon. Its wick has been long burned, the candle now half-melted. A faint glow emits from its core, a warm light amidst the night. Then, it fades into darkness.

Outside, a heavy fog draws upon Night Raven University. A low rumble is heard from the sky. It doesn’t happen again. The altar remains forgotten and without a light. 

…

...

SAVANACLAW DORMITORY : 6:30AM. 

It’s another morning of mandatory spelldrive practice. The spelldrive field is alive with commotion and everyday banter, until a rumble of thunder is heard. Although strange, no one thinks much about it. Practice continues on the same. Then, the sky darkens. 

It happens before anyone is able to comprehend it. A freak storm crashes down upon the dormitory, canceling practice. Thunder and lightning rains from above, crashing into the stadium and sending the students into an uproar. Everyone runs in search of salvation in their dormitory room, but a strike of lightning prevents many from getting there. 

SAVANACLAW has lost a walkway. 

CAMPUS SAFETY METER.

█████████ 90% 

( -10% reduced. SAVANACLAW members, please report to the group’s discord.) 

(jingles miserably)

playing fae court jester with @twistedxspinachpuffs // continued from here. ♣️

KALEN ROCA HAS HIS USES. Delicate diplomacy is not one of them.

Trey sets that aside, mounting exasperation de damned, and focuses on the fairy’s movements as he lets his gaze track between Kalen’s concentrated expression and the clear disdain they’re earning the longer their companion has to hover. He takes one step back—polite, and also wary of a potential attack, just to prove a point—and clears his throat in turn. The look he gives Kalen is subtle, but pointed: best to calm down and stop provoking them further.

A night off-duty was never in the cards. Ah well. Truth be told, he’d never taken the vice housewarden hat off—

Trey clears his throat, nodding as though he understood the fire fairy’s plight in full. “Seems like it’s been a busy day. We didn’t mean to add to the headache.”

The erratic movements are hard to track, although they paint enough of a picture to tell him the facts. No one guarding the altar tonight is in a good mood, and the one with no reservations on setting the other two on fire had a worse start to it than missing dinner.

The fairy, for their part, doesn’t move from a scowl, but at least looks marginally less interested in serving students flambé. One circle around the both of their heads has Trey straightening himself even further, following their movements with a cautious eye before returning back to perch.

A gentler chime, what Trey is assuming is a groan: same shit, different week. (Paraphrased loosely, from his educated guess.)

One leg crosses over the over, and the fairy peers down at the both of them, mirroring Trey’s crossed arms and giving them a hard stare; Trey mirrors it back.

“We aren’t here for a fight. All of us have a job to do, right? So it’d be best if we cooperated for as long as we’re here.”

They at least look as though they’re considering the flimsy olive branch extended, a finger tapping at their chin, and then a gesture: dismissive, down towards them, back at peering down their nose. The gaze is still disdainful, but now seems… expectant.

“…Come again?”

Ah, the glare’s back in full force, as well as the furious chimes that Trey swears he can feel rattle down his bones to every last nerve he’s got. The next motion is a little clearer: index finger looping in a circle, a universal spin for me, or—

                                                           …Dance?

"I'm afraid I'm not very familiar with food for fire fae. Or fire for that matter." The corner of Jade's mouth twitches upward, the faintest laugh concealed in his next breath as if over some private joke. His partner for the shift - the insect-loving Rove Bogge of Ignihyde's recluses - is out of sight and, as far as Jade knows, out of earshot as well as they pick through the storage closet in search of something to keep their candle alight. He had no trouble blaming ignorance on his deep sea upbringing, but he found it just as useful to preemptively divert blame. Gloved fingers brush across the label affixed to the front of an opaque box. Fire was a volatile element, and he's certain the same mercurial nature belonged to the fae who commanded it. The wrong "food," and the whole campus could become an inferno.

But could one really blame a fish for that? When tending a flame was so novel an activity?

Smiling to himself, Jade continues on from the ingredients he knows from alchemy class to be unstable and rounds the corner for the selection of gemstones that Professor Crewel keeps stocked.

"Perhaps a fire garnet," Jade muses, bending down to pull out the labeled drawer. One lone stone rolls to the front. Eyes catch then on another label directly above it. "Or was it a sunstone?" This drawer though is full of speckled, crystalline marbles, varying in shades of red, and the stock gives Jade pause. He glances up toward Rove, then stands back up to his full height.

"How dangerous it would be for me to guess. I shall leave the decision to your land-dwelling instincts."

When Rove had been told it was his turn he had been excited. Though that excitement faltered when he saw who his partner was. Jade made him nervous…. The man had vibes of an apex predator eyes that scanned for a weakness. Sharp teeth hidden behind a polite smile. Collected movements that concedaled strength and deadliness. Waiting for that moment his prey was exposed and vulnerable. And it was typical when they arrived the required flame nourishment was empty…. Currently digging through the storage grumbling about lack of a labelling system and preparation as he tried to find the right rock to shove in this flames mouth and go back to his room to relax. The worry of what could happen made his stomach churn slightly. Would they be forced to pay for the repairs if the candle blew up and took out half the school….to be fair if the candle exploded after they fed it it likely took him and Jade out first anyway so not his problem so to speak. As he dug through the rocks and crystals he was haphazardly tossing the rejected ones over his shoulder.  Not caring about the mess he left behind until he grasped a crystal that looked like what had been described to him. He trotted back to Jade smugly holding the crystal in hand about to boast that he found it first until he spotted the drawer Jade had opened.. Ah….a problem… Either rock could be the right one….chose poorly and the consequences would catasphrophic…    And Jade was throwing the choice to him! “ME?” He squeaked seeing that fake charming smile as he used polite words to make it hard for Rove to Argue. Whining slightly, Rove stared at the rocks with no idea which one to pick. Sweating slightly he could tell Jade was watching him. Likely enjoying seeing him losing his nerve as he inspected each one in hopes something would give it away. Nope…nothing. Well….time to do what he did best. Reaching into his pocket He dug around till he found a Dice sat in the depths. Pointing to the rocks in turn he numbered them. Assigning each Rock a side on the dice. With that he rolled the dice. The clattering was loud and rang in the silent room till it stopped. Assigning them with the Rock they were placing all their bets on. Carefully picking up his dice and the rock he held it up, almost giving Jade one last chance to take over and pick a rock. He glanced up to Jade eyes trying to hide worry as the pair returned to the candle. Pulling out his phone he debated texting a few people to prepare them for the possible danger of the candle blowing sky high with the school with it. But then the thought of it being his dangerous bet made the adrenaline rush through his blood as a slight smirk grew. Nah he had this he rolled perfectly and chose the right stone. This was a gambling high of his lifetime. As he approached the candle he gave it his best poker face as he chucked the stone into the flame. The flame flickered and burst flames reflecting in dark grey eyes as Rove held his poker face. Moments ticked by as eons as he waited to see if his gamble was a win or loss. Then the flame simmered down, satisfied with its meal and Rove grin grew. The ultimate gamble and he had won. Turning to look at Jade he gave a smirk as he walked towards him dusting his hands off from invisible dust. “No doubt that was the best choice.” Cocky adrenaline running through him he reached up to flick Jade’s earring. “Who knew you were a lucky charm.” He laughed cockily as he returned to the flats of his feet crossing his arms smugly.

<< bad luck follows >>

Ember couldn’t believe it when he got picked to help keep the candle lit. After hearing what happened to his best friend (and seeing the brick that knocked him out), he wanted so desperately to avoid it.

He should’ve known that with his luck he was going to be summoned. And he wouldn’t even be with someone he knew all that well. All he knew about Ruggie was from the few conversations they had in the committee group chat and the fact that he owed him a birthday gift.

When the pair met to keep an eye on the candle, Ember recommended they stayed moving. Ruggie would need to hold the candle as Ember used his crutches, but staying on the go would keep them the safest.

“Does that sound like a plan to you?” Ember asked, staring down the candle instead of his partner.

candlelight vigil.

No matter how hard Ruggie played up his injuries, he couldn’t escape altar duties. Every student carries a responsibility, faculty had told him, the security of this campus should be his top priority. What a bunch of baloney! What’s a dumb little candle got to do with the campus’ security? And shouldn’t the welfare of students also be a high priority?! He’s a suffering, marginalized student over here! One who nearly got obliterated by a thunderstorm! He practically almost died! 

His complaints were met with a pointed look, though no words were further uttered aside from ‘Don’t let the candle go out, Mr. Bucchi.’ 

They could have spared him from the grandiose speech and just say they didn’t care. 

Nevertheless, hours later, Ruggie arrives at his shift and it’s going to be as lame as he suspects. Ember Parca is some Diasomnia pup, though Ruggie doesn’t particularly recall him being part of the whole Draconia entourage. That makes Ember tolerable. If he’s going to stand vigil throughout the night, he wouldn’t be chipping the hours with an insufferable prick boring him to death about Malleus Draconia and his accomplishments. 

(There’s still a thousand other things that Ruggie could– should– be doing instead of this vigil. Sevens above, even satiating Leona’s midnight munchies would be a greater use of time than staring at a dumb candle.) 

“Yeah, I’m game.” Anything’s better than sitting idle. A cautious hand grabs the brass chamberstick, steadily lifting it from the base of the altar. Pale eyes squint down towards the candle, whose glowing light steadily burns. One foul gust would be enough to dim its lone flame; this little thing’s supposed to keep the campus safe? 

“This thing’s s’pose’ta keep us safe’, they said.”  Ruggie muses aloud as he cautiously moves away from the altar. There’s some crude humor to be shared with a boy on crutches and another with a sprained ankle issued to protect the campus, “But from what? It’s just a candle.” Little hyena squints down at the candle, looking for signs of runes. Alas, it just looks pretty ordinary to him. 

[ CW: Emetophobia ]

Compared to the hurdles Jamil often encounters in his day-to-day life, watching over a flame during the course of a couple hours should be a walk in the park. It is, by all accounts, a straightforward assignment; so long as one follows instructions and remains prudent, seeing it through to its end without running into any major complications should be simple enough— in theory.  

Unlike a certain someone, a candle is an inanimate object capable of staying still. At the very least, the probability that it’ll grow legs and run off to an idiotic endeavour that will endanger its own life (as well as anyone else’s unlucky enough to get caught in the crossfire) seems highly unlikely. 

… or does it? If only things were ever that easy.

Magic cast at the administration's behest is bound to be fickle and unpredictable. Were this not  highly important, there wouldn’t be a need to watch over the thing in the first place. 

( Though Jamil supposes it could just be one of the Headmage’s whims, but as long as the chance of something going terribly wrong exists, slacking off or lowering his guard is not a risk worth taking; possibilities contain an array of unpleasant surprises Jamil cannot fathom…nor does he want to begin to consider. ) 

Moreover, there are other outside factors to take into account: troublemakers, distractions, accidents, scuffles and disagreements with one’s partner —just to name a few— and Jamil soon finds that keeping watch like this is not entirely unlike keeping an eye out for kidnapping or murder attempts. Fortunately enough, he’d been paired up with someone…well. Jamil would hesitate to call Ilam trustworthy, really, but he’s well-acquainted with the guy as both a member of Scarabia and a teammate in the Basketball Club. With time, he’s become familiar enough with his fellow sophomore’s typical (and frankly cloying) antics to know what to expect from him. 

Things had been going smoothly until halfway through their shift, when Jamil realises the flame has begun to dim. He observes the candle more intently just to confirm that, no, it isn’t just a fleeting impression— something is clearly off here. 

Despite the fact that they’ve been following their professors’ directions to the letter, the candle flickers with a faint and dull glow. While teachers leaving out important details to test their students isn’t unheard of, Jamil would like to believe that they stand nothing to gain by being deliberately vague in their instructions. Especially not if the orders in question involve taking care of something important. 

The faint flame sways weakly in the wind, and Jamil’s concern deepens. Having Scarabia’s reputation be damaged over some technical mishap won’t do, and his own experience has taught him time and again that it is better to be safe than sorry. 

« Ilam. »  He looks up, turning over to his partner. « We did feed it enough firewood earlier, didn’t we? » 

FINALLY, THE MOMENT HE'S BEEN WAITIMG FOR! When Ilam got word that he, and he alone, would be accompanying Jamil with a task from the headmage, he was nothing short of ecstatic.

Being able to provide his housewarden useful insight during Halloween prep helped him cross a hurdle in his quest to befriend Jamil, sure, but 1-on-1 time like this was priceless!

When it's time for Ilam to arrive on-duty, he makes it a point to show up a little earlier than asked, attentive and ready to work. His uniform is clean-cut, or at least, what wasn't covered by his jacket was— As much as he loved fall, a guy from the Scalding Sands wasn't built for this kind of weather.

All in all, nothing particularly noteworthy happened on the walk to their post. Just some polite conversation, with a witty joke or two thrown in here and there to ensure he was keeping up the respectable yet occasionally lax persona he had established with him so far.

That was, until, Jamil questioned Ilam about the fire.

“ Huh. I guess not. ” He crouches down, watching the flame slowly start to go out. “ Jamil. You won't mind helpin' me out with the wood, would you? ”

He gestures towards their wood supply. Thankfully, he made sure to grab extra. See how responsible he is, Jamil?

Whether his housewarden decideds to help out or not, Ilam makes himself busy with rekindling the flame, keeping a close enough distance as to not get burned.

Suddenly, the flame bursts upwards! Not the reaction he was hoping for, but at least the fire was certainly growing bigger now. A lot bigger. The faintest chime of a bell is heard, but something about it was off. Almost as if the noise was muffled by some sort of blanket, or maybe a sheet.

A burst of magic shoots out at Jamil, covering him with a gooey, sparkling glob. At the same time, a fairy emerges from the flame, looking terribly sick.

Ilam's eyes back and forth between the two, not knowing where to look. The fairy flies up to him, giving him a piece of their mind!

Through the rapid fire tinkles and jingles of the fairy's voice, Ilam can sort of make out the message.

“ We are so sorry. ” Ilam bows his head apologetically, biting his tounge when the fairy hits him on the head with an indignant huff. The nerve! “ We weren't sure how much to put in, and, well, I wasn't aware you were here, so... ”

The fairy turns away, flying back into their flame. That could've gone better.

“ Here— take that off, take that off. Here's my jacket. ” Ilam hurridly takes out his coat, handing it to Jamil. It looks like he won't take 'no' for an answer.

“—IT’S BEST NOT TO PRY, FOR NOW.”

Trey can’t say there’s much conviction behind his words, but anything to temper Kalen for the night is an edge he’d prefer to have. The walk to the candlelit altar is marked with an air of trepidation that he’d prefer not to dwell on. Nothing about this year’s Halloween preparations has been routine—all the more reason for nothing impulsive to be said and done. Trey saunters casually, taking the lead between the two of them towards their post for the night, but his words are orders, not a simple suggestion. They’re here to do a job, and represent Heartslabyul as they do it.

It’s just a candle.

Trey can’t say he’s looking forward to losing so much time to just a candle, but it can’t be helped.

“And it gets us out of cooking duty for one night.” It’s a wry comment with a smile that’s halfway between a grimace and outright wincing; Trey only hopes the sophomores that stepped up in their absence are better cooks than bakers.

Trey takes his time to walk around the perimeter of the altar, hands in his pockets and alert, even under the guise of nonchalance. A silence settles on his end, brow furrowed in thought while he considers the best way to stand vigil—in theory, it would be best to make their posts on either side, but the thought of his back to Kalen or the the candle—

—Well. It’s not a pleasant option, to say the least.

At least it isn’t a windy night, although the scant breeze picks up the sound of distant bells from somewhere. It’s a pleasant sound, albeit unusual for the time of night—

“Not many people have a reason to pass by this late, so if we’re lucky, it’s an uneventful night and we have nothing to report.” Trey’s arms cross in front of his chest as he finishes his careful circle, electing to let go of feigning a casual demeanor. The bells keep catching, although Trey swears they’re closer than before. “Not too cold, either. Weird as this is, it could be worse.”

He has more to say, but the gentle tinkling is no longer background noise to catch in snippets, but a sharp ringing in his ear. The candlelit vigil is brighter than before, and the air a dash warmer for the trouble.

Perched and ready to pass judgment, a fire fairy hovers over the top of the altar before perching themselves down with crossed legs and arms.

Ah, that's right. They have a supervisor, tonight. One that appears none too pleased.

Trey can’t say he understands the toiling of their speech, but from the sudden shift—melodic chimes to a deeper sound that grates on gently-fraying nerves—their companion is in a particular mood tonight.

“—I think it wants something.”

ALMOST IMMEDIATELY, KALEN IS UNDER THE ASSUMPTION that he's just been sent on a fool's errand. There were no hard feelings on his end— it was only a matter of time, he figures.

But still, that leaves him with the lingering question: Why have Trey come with him? If he was to be spending time on menial tasks, it was a bold choice to send one of the dorm's most important figures.

Whatever. This should be easy. He's a little irked at not being able to prepare dinner beforehand ( he finds cooking skills of the two sophmores left in charge to be more than questionable, at best ).

The moment they make it to the alter, Kalen's happy-go-lucky demeanor instantly switches. He's instantly more alert, more attentive, more cautious. His eyes scan the area, occasionally whipping his head around to observe the other side, looking akin to something like a trained dog.

Moves calculated, expression cold... it's almost as if he's done this before.

If Trey is paying close enough attention, he may notice the way Kalen's eyes subtly dart to the location of any small noise, and the way his eyebrows furrow ever so slightly in frustration as he tries to figure out where the ringing is coming from.

“ Woo-ooah, look. ” Kalen's 'tough guy' persona is quickly dropped, as Trey attempts to hear them out. He makes the mental note to regard them as friend, rather than foe. “ Heyy, hope you're havin' a good night so far! ”

The fairy sends a harsh glare his way. If looks could kill, Kalen would be double dead. Ouch.

Kalen pats himself down, in desperate search for a pen... no such luck.

“ Ack, Seven, ok... ” He tugs on his hair slightly, looking around... aha! “ Excuse me? Can you maybe... act it out? ”

The fairy snaps back some retort. At least, that's what Kalen thinks it is. He's not too sure.

“ I know, I know. It sounds dumb, but— ”

The fairy let's out a prolonged groan, standing up, then taking flight to better match the boys' monsterous height. They give a look as if to say brace yourselves. With one action after another, the scene unfolds:

Waking up late. Getting scolded. Trying to go rest, and watch a show. Is immediately interrupted by a large bird. Chasing off the bird. Finally getting back home, all roughed up. Fixing theemselves, sitting back down... notified of something... they get back up. They then gesture to the candle, and the watch on Kalen's wrist.

After they're done, they're out of breath, holding out their arms as if to say 'Ta-daa!' They even look pleased for a moment, as Kalen gives them a raucous applause.

“ Aaah, I get it! ” He sticks out his pointer finger, lightbulb ( albiet a dim one ) going off in his head. The fairy watches in anticipation. “ Uh, yeah. No. Nevermind, I'm lost. ”

The fairy sends a spark of fire his way— not enough to turn him into a human candle, but enough to make Kalen quickly back away.

“ Mr. Trey? Any ideas? ”

(nru: vigilance 10/11/22)

SNAP! A flash of light shutters amidst the darkness. An exasperated huff leaves Azul as he gazes upon the phone screen; he can’t believe someone had the gall to tarnish the altar! Another flash pierces through the night, this time at a different angle. A revolting rogue tarnishes the brilliance of polished stone; an irremovable stain. The young merchant kneels down at the base, inquisitive eyes examining the shade. 

“This is unacceptable!” An exclamation shudders through the courtyard’s clearing. Azul twists, facing his companion with eyes lit in determination. “We must apprehend the ones responsible for this act of vandalism, Mr. Sam! Defacing this sacred altar is an act comparable to sullying the name of Night Raven University itself–!” Azul rises to a stand, “As members of this community, we mustn’t let this incident slide, lest we desire another criminal act to arise.” Not to mention, should they refuse to take action, then he’d be the one stuck cleaning the altar! Being blamed for the act was already upsetting enough, but to scrape away the paint while the ones responsible got away scat-free? Of course, Azul wasn’t going to let that happen! Head tilted in pride, the merman continues: “From the evidence gathered, I've already deducted a likely culprit."

“ atta boy! ” sam celebrates, peering over szul's shoulder to take a good look at the pictures he took... these would be perfect should the accusations arrise that they had some part in such a mess being made.

“ this is just the type'a can-do attitude I've come to expect from you, little imp! it's admirable, really, to shake off the overwhelming disrespect and turn it into something productive... good on you! ”

a shadow slithers up the wall the shopkeep had been leaning on, paintbrush in hand. the paint drips off the loaded brush, handing on sam's shoulder.

“ don't tamper with the scene. ” sam's nose wrinkles in disgust as he pulls a handkerchief from his apron's pocket, apalled that his friend would display such carelessness as to stain one of his good suit jackets.

the shadow rushes to put the evidence back where it belongs... good thing it doesn't leave fingerprints.

“ now, little imp, just who have you deducted to be the miscreant behind such wrongdoings? ” he delievers a pointed glare to the mess, preparing himself for the grueling manual cleanup that was sure to come.

fool’s march.

vigilance reactionary post; here as a reference. 

Only a meager picking of spoilt pups could survive the intensity of a Savanaclaw routine. Tiresome as it could be, it’s why Ruggie loves his dorm. There’s nothing like the wind tousling unruly hair as he breaks past an unshakeable defense, adrenaline pumping through his veins as he chases the high of a perfect play. It reminds him of times back in the slums, feet hammering down upon cobblestone as he whizzed down a bustling marketplace, the royal guard hot on his trail. It’s the same now as it was before, as he soars through the air instead of sullied streets, one hyena battling against the odds— Unstoppable. 

It doesn’t matter the terrain, earth or sky, sunshine or shower.

No one ever matches his speed. 

The spelldrive disk launches with a hiss. It makes its trajectory to another teammate.

“Another great play, Broomie,” Ruggie whispers, gripping his broom tighter with a grin. He’s looping himself back into action, ready to keep up with defense when he hears it.

The roar of thunder.

It silences the field. 

Ruggie sees the same apprehension light his teammates’ expression as it does his own, ears perking. One hand instinctively rises, palm upwards, for a droplet of water that doesn’t come. Ruggie blinks, craning his head to stare at a cloudless sky. A question emerges in his mind, a sentiment surely shared by many: Since when did it thunder at Savanaclaw? 

His attention turns to the stadium benches for an answer, for a person more knowledgable with the mirror realm than the rest. He searches in the shadows for a figure of lion ears and an emerald glare, then towards the outskirts of the stadium. Leona isn’t there; he must have retired from practice early again.

“Oi– Bucchi! Y’gonna keep hoverin’ there or what!?” Someone rams into the back of Ruggie’s broom, nearly knocking the hyena over, “Keep blockin’ the field like a dumb meerkat ‘n I’mma put ya on a spit!”

“My bad, my bad, jeeeeez!” Ruggie swerves out of the way before his teammate takes another swing at him, then notices that the field is back to its regular commotion. No one cares about the thunder. For a moment, it eases Ruggie’s mind. It makes him, too, believe in normalcy. Savanaclaw’s realm is a replication of Sunset Savanna only in aesthetic; danger exists only through banter and empty-hearted threats. 

At least, that’s what they say during orientation. 

The sky darkens. Then, a bolt of lightning crashes from above. 

Ruggie hears the screams before he hears the rumble. One of the pillars gets hit. Behind them, another bolt strikes a stadium speaker, leaving scarring upon the ground. A shrill whistle is heard above the commotion; practice is canceled. 

One freshman– A gazelle beastman– runs. Another student follows, then a third. It causes a ripple effect of bodies desperate to escape; a stampede of terrified students seeking for salvation against the onslaught of lighting. Ruggie only has time to land, feet barely touching the ground, when he’s shoved into the pack. 

One hyena battling against the odds. 

A gasp pierces through Ruggie as he fights for balance. His arms tuck at his chest, broom upright, ears flattened. Students are clawing for survival, grasping on each other’s uniforms, tugging until someone falls. Ruggie’s heart pounds in his chest; the crowd shoves him forward. He takes a step to the side, craning his neck for sight to no avail. He can’t see above anyone.

Ruggie focuses on his feet, keeping himself upright. He tries to ground his anxieties, tries to keep his breath controlled, but he’s shaking. Beyond bodies, he can’t see anything. He hears it all though: The ear-splintering thunder, the cacophony of voices crying out for help or for others to move out of their way, students slipping, and mud slickening people’s shoes. Then, suddenly, a deafening shriek rises above it all. 

Something slams upon the ground, evoking forth a violent tremor.

Ruggie’s thrown off his feet. That’s when he realizes; he was at the walkway. 

------

His last moments of clarity were surreal. 

Ruggie remembers the feeling of being weightless. He remembers looking at the walkway– At least, the remains of it. His hand reached towards ivory ropes, his voiceless cry drowned in chaotic clamor. Wood and debris cascaded from above and, below, other Savanaclaw members. His back struck something hard, causing pain to splinter throughout his right side. Then, everything became bleary.

He only remembers the bawls and agonized groans surrounding him thus forth. The crackling of thunder and, as he laid in darkness, his plea to the skies, begging for it to stop. 

The candle has gone out.

cw emesis

That fire looks weird, right? Jamil and Ilam are pretty sure that they know what normal fire looks like and that definitely isn’t it. They’ve been feeding the flame the way the professors told them to, but it doesn’t look like the bright orange it was at the start.

But they decide it must be nothing and keep feeding the flame until it—pukes? It turns out the flame is maintained by a fire fae, who got sick because it's been overfed. It makes the flame burn a little dimmer and, while the professors don’t punish Jamil and Ilam for doing their job, they are pretty disappointed.

Despite their best efforts, they're not able to help the fae feel better. It pukes on Jamil again before shooing both of them away. Jamil has to walk back to Scarabia in shame, with fae puke all over his clothes.

CAMPUS SAFETY METER.

█████████ 80% 

( -10% reduced.) 

[PUMPKIN] Luciano is looking at all of the pumpkins with focused precision. Though not too much, and his eye isn't as trained as a potential pumpkin farmer could be.

The seller smiles again. "Pick any pumpkin, they won't bite," they say.

"Apologies," he says. "I am mostly looking for a pumpkin of good quality that I would not miss too much." It wasn't much that pumpkins were uncommon in his town, but he knows that some pumpkins deserve to be made as jack-o'-lanterns and others deserve to be served with food.

"Any suggestions, Mr. Clover?" he asks.

“WELL, I’M NOT AN EXPERT, BUT I CAN GIVE YOU A TIP.”

Trey’s already set aside two pumpkins of his own—smaller, a little more oblong than the bigger pumpkins in the patch ripe for picking. He’d already been roped into scouring what was needed for a little pumpkin carving, and now his mission is far more personal. Well, to the extent any cooking he did in Heartslabyul’s kitchen could ever be fully a personal project, when the spoils usually got shared. Especially his conquest target this time: some of the smaller ones, a little more bruised but still definitely edible for roasted pumpkin seeds.

Wiping his brow with a garden-gloved hand, he bends down where Luciano’s standing, resting on his heels as he pushes one of the pumpkins around to check for bruises. “For carving, right? Since you’re looking for the big ones. I’m not really good at it myself, but I’ve had to carry enough of them for my siblings to know what they like, and what makes it easier.”

He gives the first one he’s fondling a good slap, just for good measure, before taking a look at the stem. “This one’s pretty, but the stem’s a little too green. Not quite ripe yet, but if you come back in a day or two and it’s still here, it’ll be nice. Go with—"

Another firm slap, another round of fondling the next one nearest Trey, only marginally smaller but clearly more mature. “This one. It’s not as vibrant, but it’ll carve up real nice!”

Halloween is finally here!

AND THE HALLOWEEN PARTY IS UPON US!  Thanks to the vigilance of NRU’s staff and student body, the candle altar has continued burning without too many disasters. Headmage Crowley still won’t reveal what the altar was for, but by the time Halloween Week rolls around, you’re all too busy running your rally booths, attending class, and taking midterms to dwell on mysterious, unanswered questions. Before long, you hardly even think about the strange events that transpired while you were taking care of the altar, and turn your attention instead to the massive Halloween bash the school is throwing for NRU and visitors alike.

How does this work?

Similar to the Hootenanny event from a few months ago, this blog will post a set of inbox memes and prompts that you can send to other characters. These are not the only ideas you can write about though, and we encourage you to create interactions and start threads using the setting, but your own ideas as well! Additionally, please remember to meme supportively. If someone has reblogged the ask meme, that means they’re looking for interactions, so send away! Your muse might just make a new friend.

How long is the event?

NRU: Frights will run from October 24th until 11:59PM PST on October 31st.