ph_logs | December Event - To All a Good Night

December Event - To All a Good Night

To All a Good Night

Givingstide

Winter is hard for everyone, but none more so than the residents of an island that has been isolated by the cruel hands of fate. Where the rest of the Emerald Isles is able to rely on imports from other nations in warmer places, Marrow Isle has no resources but her own. All the while, her mettle continues to be tested against the horrors brought on by the curse.

It is for this reason that among all the holidays celebrated by the Mothers' children, Givingstide is particularly beloved. A warm and cozy festival based around wishing each other prosperity and love in the new year, the lengthening of days, embracing generosity even in the lean times, and celebrating the fact that the darkest part of the year is coming to an end.

The fireplace is lit at the Oak & Iron. A wreath of pine boughs hangs over the merry blaze, paper horses and snowflakes decorate the walls, and a table in the center of the room has been done up to look like a silver sleigh. As people file in, hot food and warm drinks begin coming out of the kitchen and bar, and gifts begin piling up on the sleigh table. (Ultimately, a fair amount of them end up on the floor around it.) Everyone greets each other warmly with hearty handshakes, firm hugs, and wishes of a blessed Givingstide. Perhaps if you have a clever eye, you may even see a horned figure drinking hot cocoa in the corner harmlessly, enjoying the atmosphere of good will and keeping watch over the party to prevent any troublemakers. And for once, just once, for the first time in so long on this frightful, forsaken island, there is true peace.

[ Enter the Tavern. ]

The tavern is warm. Orange firelight flickers, as if dancing with the shadows. Decorations of shimmering silver and hunter green, the colors of Givingstide, adorn the dark wood decor of the Oak & Iron. The stucco and timber walls of the dining hall safeguard those within from the bitter wind and snow. It's no Leeds gala--- the food is simple, but it is beautifully made. Roasted chicken, potatoes, onion soup, and fresh-baked bread. Slices of pumpkin pie are passed around for dessert. Hot cider with or without alcohol, mulled wine, coffee, and spiced tea are served with the meal. It isn't glamorous, but it's made with love and tastes like coming home somehow.

As dinner carries on, music begins to be played from the tavern stage, and Mayor Poe has Yorick assist her in doling out the gifts from the table. They read the tags and summon the recipients to the table to recieve them. You can open yours right there or at your table, and decide for yourself whether you care to announce the name of the giver to the room.

Once the gifts are distributed, the partygoers are left to their own devices, allowed time to laugh with friends, dance to music, drink to their hearts' content, sneak off to while away a private moment in one of the inn's sitting rooms, or head home for an early night. Regardless of your choice, let it be with a loved one. A friend, a partner, a member of your newfound family. Blessed Givingstide, and may your lantern ever stay lit.

gifts and vouchers

Some important information regarding gift-giving and vouchers can be found below.

[ Review. ]

Gifts can be purchased using your own Brass, or via the holiday bazaar vouchers found in our December TDM. If you haven't taken the trivia quiz on the TDM, you still can! You can take it for each character or just once and give all your characters the same voucher.

For simplicity's sake for both our mods and our players, we will allow you to decide for yourselves the prices of your items so long as they are reasonable. You can use other purchase requests in the bank as a reference or simply decide on a price you believe is fair based on your experience. You do not have to list prices. We will trust you to make fair decisions! If you're still unsure how much an item ought to cost, feel free to ask us in the question thread on this post, but in the spirit of the holiday season (both real and fictional) we would rather allow your characters to get gifts for all their loved ones than worry too much about financials. Perhaps your character is simply a very good bargain hunter!

As a slight aside, we would love to thank each and every one of you for being a part of making Pumpkin Hollow amazing this year. We truly could not ask for a better group of players and are extremely grateful to have met all of you delightful, creative, talented, funny, incredible people. We hope you had a great holiday season, whatever that looks like for you, and we're so honored to greet the new year with this fantastic community!

Hand in hand, we put the darkness to our backs and step into the light. Rejoice, spring cometh.

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Erik comes up to her with that cylinder in hand. "Dare I guess what may be in here?" He has... a few ideas. But he isn't trying to presume too much.

"I'm sorry I've been absent for so long. I owe you an explanation but I beg you to let me put it off until later. I don't want to spoil the mood. I'd rather cherish this moment."

That said, he offers a fragrant package to her. Inside is a pouch of tobacco (Dr. Watson was kind enough to help him select a suitable variety for beginners) and a pipe with the bowl carved out of Briar wood into the shape of a skull.

"A bit of a joke, and a bit of a safety tool," River answers to Erik's first question; she flashes a lopsided smile. "Actually inspired by history. Before the empire went down screaming we had an empress...god...hundred twenty years back? Anyway after her death the citizenry learned she kept ahhh...personal relaxation aids that had knives concealed in them, in case her lovers were assassins - her will spread the technology to every brothel in the land."

Erik is getting a hug before River takes the package. It will be, you see, a big hug. A warm hug. Possibly too tight a hug; she's been absent too, but she's missed him. An explanation...River's got guesses, but she'll listen, when it's time.

Especially since the pipe has her lighting up and making a high-pitched noise audible mostly to dogs, Erik, and possibly the machine intelligences in the room.

"Knives?" Both eyebrows lift in alarm. He's trying to picture what that looks like but the imagery it conjures doesn't seem... functional.

Before he can ask for clarification, she's hugging him. He presses his face into her hair and breathes in the scent of her. He never cared for the smell of smoke before, but the musk of it on her, mixed with the tang of metal and fire, feels like coming home to a lit hearth. His arms are around her in an instant, hugging back, carefully tight.

Unfortunately, that high-pitched noise she's making is far less pleasant. He winces from it, but his smile never fades. He's so relieved that she likes it.

"Doctor Watson was good enough to help me select the appropriate tobacco. He is also, very kindly, willing to instruct on how to use one of these. I'm unfortunately not knowledgeable about it."

"Twist it at the middle and pull," River murmurs in explanation. She listens to Erik's own about the pipe and just keeps hugging him. This is good. This...this is nice.

It's also in front of the gods and everybody but if Erik's not complaining River's gonna keep indulging.

"Thank you," she murmurs. "It's...I don't even know how to explain it. It'll help me fit in with my new family, when I get back."

She's still hugging him, long after the amount of time a natural hug should last. He doesn't want her to stop, maybe ever. The heat radiating from her arms seeps into him, thawing some of the lingering fear that's followed him here. He doesn't care who witnesses this, nor what they think of it. Just for a little while he'd like to lower the damned front he wears like a second skin.

"It makes me happy to see you happy," he tells her in hushed tones.

Something close to panic flutters in his chest when she says 'When I get back' but he internally chides himself. Of course, they all have the same goal, to get back to the life they left. Just like all things, this time and joy is limited. It's no less beautiful for that. When they part, he will be glad to keep the memory of her alive with him for years to come. "You'll tell them all about me, I hope. Even the salcious bits."

"Even? Especially, you think I'm about to skimp out?" River nuzzles into Erik's neck and nips him there, just lightly. "...When we blow this party, take me back to yours?"

"I suspected any family of yours would be more than open to hearing all the details," he says with a grin. Shame? Not in this house.

The nip draws a muted giggle out of him. So, this is what Max is always going on about. He understands the appeal now. "Gladly. I'll carry you there myself."

He does, just as promised, carry her away with him to his home. He'd had the foresight to build up the fire before he left, so it's not freezing once they get there. The two of them tuck into bed beneath the covers. Even through the clothes he chose to keep on to protect her from the worst of his chill, he can feel the heat radiating from her. How he's missed it. Missed her. For once, it isn't difficult to let himself drift into the dread nothing of sleep because he has her here in his arms.

And he has her still when the morning light filters in as slivers past the heavy curtains over his windows. He wakes, takes a breath just to draw in the scent of her, and lies there still in an attempt not to wake her prematurely.

Edited 2024-01-18 02:55 (UTC)

The la Croix have a strong journaling culture Erik, there's gonna be fucking diagrams of you going down.

River has a tendency to talk in her sleep. A Large Number of her dreams seem to involve arguments with her mentor, Robert, who was a ghost haunting her back home; indeed, even now she's muttering something in her native tongue, sleepy and musical and definitely swear words. She weakly punches her pillow and wiggles harder into Erik.

The time just before she wakes up is like this a lot. You can always tell. Girl sleeps like a fucking stone most of the night and then the Wiggling begins.

Her breathing changes when she crosses the line into wakefulness, and River yawns. Where's...right, she went over to Erik's after the party. Which means this is his bed...mmm...

With malice aforethought the Wiggling resumes.

Make sure to get the teeth right on those diagrams.

Her moving and talking don't bother him. He's not unused to that since Max was always a bit restless in his sleep. Still, it tugs at his dead heart to hear her so clearly replaying arguments in her dreams, even if the swear words do sound positively musical on her lips. The punch in her sleep is kind of cute, so long as it's not aimed at his nuts. The wiggling, though... that could be dangerous.

"I know you're awake, River..." there's a grin in his voice. "I can hear the difference in your breathing."

"Das slander," River murmurs sleepily. "Vile slander, sir." But the jig is up, isn't it? River stretches about as much as she can without escaping Erik's arms and lets out a contented sigh. "Y'know, the arms are inconvenient in a bunch of ways but I'll never bitch about not needing to buy or use bedwarmers. I'm so fucking cozy right now."

He rolls his eyes at her, but lovingly. "You'll never hear me complain about the heat. Though, I do wish you didn't have to suffer so much for it." Dammit, how is he supposed to leave the bed when she's being this fucking adorable in it?

Easy answer, he isn't. But...

"I'd like to take advantage of it fully. One moment." He carefully unbuttons his shirt and extricates himself from it while keeping as much contact with her as he can. Now, for the first time, he's completely undressed from the waist up in front of her. He's not being careful of how much she can see, either. The raised scars on his back are white from age and healing, but the way they crisscross over his shoulder blades is unmistakable as anything but the marks of a lash.

"I called my shot as a big girl who can tie her own shoes and everything," River murmurs, still very sleepy. "An' my -" YAAAAAAAAAAWN, "- m'fuckin' mentor already bitched me out for it too. Dude conquers most of the known world and he's afraid of a little knife work, what a bitch..."

Wait a moment...

"...Love, that's your shirt." River sounds much more immediately awake right now.

"I know you did. I'm not suggesting you stop, but I'm allowed to feel sad that my girlfriend must choose to do such a painful thing." She can't escape being worried over now, this is part of the deal.

A soft hum somewhere between amusement and... something much more vulnerable thrums in his bare chest. "Yes. I know."

Very deliberately, he rolls from his side onto his stomach, managing to stay skin on skin with her during the entire revolution. His head is turned to look at her, to take in whatever emotions cross her face when she sees those naked scars for the first time.

There is a long moment in silence, where River does not move at all. She heard the invitation, but she has trouble believing it; Erik's always been so private, so careful, firm on this boundary even when he plays at being in her control. It seems so...sudden, for something so enormous.

She sits up and turns at the same time, propping herself up on an elbow - and drawing in a sharp breath. Her hand reaches out, and then she stops; permission to look is not permission to touch. Her ears flatten into her hair, she bites her lip in worry...

In her lowest whisper, barely speaking at all: "Who burns for this?"

It would be sudden if not for how the events of November brought it all roaring to life in front of him again. Hearing the voice of his master so clearly after all these years rattled him more than he ever expected it could. Chris was there to hear it, to know it first hand. They paid for that in blood. This time, at least, Erik can share it on his terms.

"My master and ...Sire has been dead for centuries. I doubt there would be enough left to burn." Still, he can't help but feel gratified that she'd hunt him down if she could.

"Before he made me his vampire Childe, I was his slave. I and my sister, both. It was that or be left at the tender age of 14 to starve in the coming winter. But these..." he looks over his own shoulder, "I did not receive these until after he turned me."

"...Something must have been very wrong with your body at the time," River murmurs. "Starving, maybe, or in the thrall of a retained necromancer. Love, I'm so sorry." Her hand does reach out, but not to the scars; she rests her warm palm on Erik's neck. She's all too aware of her own scars right now, soldier's bites that she earned in honest battle...this...this is beyond the pale.

And oddly familiar...

"...These are from flogging. Aren't they?"

He pulls in a deep breath, pushes it out, pulls in another, this continues in steady rhythm for a few long seconds.

"Vampires of my... variety... do not die when starved for blood. Often they go mad first, or lose themselves to the hunger as weakness and malaise take hold. But if they go long enough, they simply stop... healing." Another long shuddering breath.

"I was mortally wounded in a raid at the gate of my master's home, run through with a spear. My sister found me just before I lost consciousness. She begged our master to turn me, to save me. I never wanted to be saved that way." The accords didn't exist yet. There was no rule that the turning must be willing.

"I survived the process to become a vampire, yet I wished I hadn't. Fledglings wake with a beastly hunger. He set me to feed on servants whose names I never knew. If I were capable of dreaming, I'm certain their faces would haunt me. But, as soon as my wits returned, I stopped. I refused to eat. I thought I could starve myself to death. I would have carved my own eyes out if he had not kept me in chains. I have always been... terribly stubborn." A touch of humor, hollow as it might be, creeps into that last line.

"He thought the pain of the lash would convince me. He thought there would be no way for me to refuse with fresh wounds festering. He was wrong."

"...I'm so sorry," River murmurs. She leans down, and gently kisses the back of Erik's neck. "I can't imagine, but...gods in Arcadia, the pain alone. And from what you've told me, to, to tell anyone, to admit to anyone that you've been hurt and you need help, would have been a death sentence."

Thousands of years he's been alive, he said. Carrying this all alone.

"Anyone else from your world shows up here, they'll contend with me. And I'm not going to be nice about it."

"The pain was the least of it. I knew pain all my life..." his childhood was an endless road of suffering. If not for his sense of duty to his sister, he might not have survived it. But, for her, he refused to give up. And now... he continues on in spite of her.

"These were the days before the Accords," he murmurs, gaze drifting off to focus on some other corner of the room before his eyes close completely, the better to savor her kiss. "We were less...unified. There was no one to tell." His master was an Elder already. He was too strong, too influential.

"As far as anyone was concerned, I still belonged to him until he deemed me fit to care for myself. Considering my actions, he had all the grounds he needed to keep me under his control. All he would have to do was show these marks on my back and all of them would know instantly what they mean." Scars on a vampire, what could be more shameful? If any Elder were to see, he'd lose the respect of his peers overnight. Everything he's worked to achieve would crumble to dust.

"Most who might come here from my world will be blameless. Don't go cooking them on my account. But... if a woman with eyes like a dead frost and a smile spun out of razor wire ever introduces herself to you as Ophelia Delacroix, burn her on sight. Trust nothing she says."

River nods, just once, a display of absolute trust. And then she leans down to kiss her lover softly, nipping at his lips. "Thank you," she whispers, "for telling me. I'm sorry if I made it harder trying to flirt in my sleep."

"You made something hard," he says, playful lust creeping into his voice as she nips him.

His next words are far less playful, "Thank you, River, for hearing me. I can't put to words what it means, but I think you understand." And that's, possibly, the most marvelous thing of all.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

December Event - To All a Good Night

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cw: scars/trauma

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cw: slavery

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cw: non-con murder/torture/imprisonment

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