June Event - Cukey-Scary [The Cucumber Festival]

[pumpkinhollow]

**Plain text version here.

CUKEY-SCARY

Come one, come all!

The long-awaited festival to enjoy vegetables and welcome in the summer months has finally arrived - and this time, completely uninhibited by curses!

Pumpkin Hollow's streets are bright and bustling, adorned with green ribbons, baskets of flowers, and freshly arranged shop stalls to market their goods to the festival-goers as they mill about the streets surrounding the Festival Green. Cheering crowds watch performers perched upon stages, jaunty music played by thoroughly energized bands fills the air, and the smell of freshly-cut cucumbers is carried on the breeze.

Welcome to the Cucumber Festival, a sorely-missed holiday held exclusively on Marrow Isle. It is a festival begun at the town's inception to encourage the newly-established farming community, which was rapidly embraced from then on. Many smaller-scale gardeners dedicate vast amounts of energy in joining farmers to make the festival possible, and this year is more abundant than ever, thanks to the efforts of the new arrivals taking up the farming mantles. The merriment sprawls all over the Festival Green, and even further into the town.

One question yet remains: where to begin?

Cucumber Celebrations Commence!

Copious Cucumber Cuisine

With the cucumber harvest more bountiful this year than it'd ever been, the booths have a wide assortment of offerings - cucumber chips, fried pickles, bowls of salad, breads with chunks of vegetable in them, fritters, among the wide tide of other culinary delights. If you can make it with a cucumber, these people have!

Almost as abundant as the attendees are, the stalls and booths set up with cucumber-centric meals are easily found. much of it is cheap, even free in many cases, and scattered with them are other booths peddling artisan goods.

Challenges of Chance and Cheer

As much as Hollowites enjoy their food, there's rarely an opportunity that they pass up to incorporate games or rides into festivities, and the Cucumber Festival has an extremely wide variety to offer!

The Whirling Wyvern is a ride that stands shortly behind a neat arrangement of picnic tables. Rope fences wind around the ride, giving it a safe distance from any bystanders, and the surrounding area is littered with flour bags, densely stuffed to offer padding.

Watching it even briefly makes it very clear why the padding is needed: the platform, raised about two feet off the ground in the middle, begins to spin its seated riders, rotating faster and faster until they topple, roll, and fall off the sides, into the padding below. People can often be heard nearby making bets with friends to see who can stay on the longest. (It's not a recommended ride for anyone who's been drinking!)

Bumpermobiles is another ride, operating on enchantment instead of electricity and a switch, that may look familiar to some of Pumpkin Hollow's residents from more modern times! Though they lack the distinctive roofed building in favor of a section of paved road closed off with wooden beams, the small carts of the bumpermobiles resemble automobiles of the current time, outfitted with wide-edges to brace the impact they'll inevitably have on one-another! Each one seats two, but are able to be driven on their own, if you'd prefer to focus your conversations on heckling your fellow driver.

Hot Air Balloons are set up not on the Green, but just outside of it, taking a spot just off to the side that's unoccupied by booths or frequent foot-traffic. Each ride carries a maximum of three, not counting the operator, and gives any rider an impressive view of marrow isle for thirty minutes.

The Carousel stands in the center of the Festival Green, chiming cheerful music from the pillar in the center. Horses are joined by the addition of shimmering unicorns, beaked pegasi, and colorfully painted pony-drawn carts (which are crafted to be seats, for those who cannot climb on one of the other mounts).

The Wheel of Chance is a vertical wheel, perched between artisan's booths, offering low-stake prizes for a small payment! 5 Brass allows you to spin the wheel, offering one of ten available prizes:

1. a cucumber, covered in batter and fried, on a stick.
2. a goldfish in a decorative bowl.
3. a pair of pants, with several varieties to choose from.
4. a deck of playing cards.
5. a fine leather-bound notebook.
6. a set of six shot glasses.
7. a bottle of wine.
8. a basket of assorted fruits.
9. a glass-blown animal native to Marrow Isle, palm-sized, in assorted species and colors.
10. 10 Brass. Double your money!

(For any concerned about the wellbeing of the fish: the person operating the wheel assures the health of these goldfish, and that the bowls are simply for festival distribution. They do note, however, that you'll be on the hook, no pun intended, to provide the new home for the fish.)

The Cucumber Festival's Raffle is one of the most coveted opportunities to spend a small sum of brass and win one of the many prizes donated by the community, with all contributions going into community services and upkeep.

Each ticket costs 20 Brass, and each person may purchase up to 5 tickets. There will be three drawings total, granting a small prize, a medium prize, and a grand prize to each winner. One person cannot win more than one prize; if the same person draws a second prize after their first, it will be re-rolled.

To purchase a raffle ticket, please reply to the Pumpkin Hollow mod account comment with RAFFLE TICKETS as the title, also linked here, stating how many tickets your character will be buying. On JUNE 14TH, ticket purchasing will be closed, and the prizes will be rolled!

The prizes are as follows:

1. 1st (small): a telescope, with elegant engravings in the metal, donated by Elias Coldwood.
2. 2nd (medium): a set of two enchanted tea puppies, one glass and one metal, donated by Neil West.
3. 3rd (grand prize): a basket-hilt sword, well-weighted, masterfully crafted, and delightfully ornate, donated by Dahlia Leeds.

Contestants Convene for Competition

Of course, what's a festival without a little bit of friendly competition! Over the week of celebrations, the Cucumber Festival hosts the following activities for any and all participants interested in joining in the fun.

The Cucumber Growing Competition is a celebration of the farmers who made all this possible, as well as a flexing of gardening prowess. Each cucumber is measured in weight, length, and color! The prize for the best cucumber in show is simply a ribbon, but among the Pumpkin Hollow farmers, it's quite a statement to have. Career farmers, hobby gardeners, and onlookers alike gather to see the town's farmers' handiwork!

The Cooking Competition follows directly after the Cucumber Growing Competition. While the larger of the vegetables don't make for very good foods, sacrificing flavor for size, the rest of the entries are cut up and used for a variety of dishes. Chefs of all varieties are encouraged to participate to show their culinary prowess!

The Great Turnip Smash-Off is a cheeky jab at the prior year's failed festival. Wielding any tools they like, including but not limited to one's hands themselves, each contestant is allotted three minutes to destroy as many turnips as they possibly can. The prize for the cucumber festival's first annual turnip slayer is a small trophy for bragging rights!

The Water Walk is a fun sport for all ages! Lined up in rows with metal spoons full of water, the participants must walk carefully to the end of the "racetrack" to a small glass of water, with a line denoted on the side at the middle. The first person to fill their glass to or above that mark wins!

The Variety Show occurs throughout the week, offering the stage to many people of assorted talents. The first day is booked up for magicians (sleight of hand, specifically - mages are politely requested to refrain from participation), and on the following Monday, a "feat of strength" competition will showcase the might of those strongest in Pumpkin Hollow! The other days are yet to be filled, and several festival attendants are waiting with clipboards to accept submissions. Many newcomers have talents they've never seen before, so new submissions of the musical, magical, or other remarkable talent alike are not only welcome, but strongly encouraged!

Carnival Complications

Of course, not all things can go entirely peacefully in Pumpkin Hollow's festivities, and the Cucumber Festival has never been exempt from this. Though the prior years' incident was far more disruptive to the festival's celebrations, several things begin to crop up over the span of the week.

Capricious Crashers

As the festival goes on, it seems that some poltergeists have seen fit to invite themselves to the party. Two games are affected, with varying results.

The Whack-a-Mole Game, during the first night, becomes the first item to start experiencing a mild haunting. Though the specters only make themselves known when the participant is alone, there's a distinct feeling of guilt that comes with each smack, not unlike stepping on a cat's tail without realizing it. Instead of the triumphant jingle that the machine lets out when the game is complete, a stark silence settles in, as though the entire festival has frozen in time. Only then does a whisper, no louder than a breeze, brush past your ear.

Rolling a D3, the spirits haunting the whack-a-mole machine will tell you the following:

1. a secret that isn't yours to have about someone in town.
2. a piece of gossip, a shocking recent happening that may or may not be getting around in whispers.
3. a lie, carefully crafted to impact the way you see one of your fellow townsfolk.

(Mod Note: the information given is always going to be about someone nearby. When tagging into someone's top-level with the Whack-a-Mole Game who's got secrets or gossip, provide a piece of information about your character that the spirits might've said! Additionally, feel free to request a piece of information about an NPC, major or minor. For a lie, anything goes. Have fun with it!)

The Candle-Shooting Game is the next to become haunted, though the haunting is significantly more straightforward. In an act of simple mischief, the flame will occasionally withstand blasts from the water gun that should have surely snuffed it, or the flame will go out just as you line your shot up. These spirits are aiming to ruin this particular game, but not your night.

Cards and Consequences

On the outskirts of the festival, there is a strange building set up. Just a small shack, decorated with celestial trappings and a mysterious air. Above the door, a sign painted black with gold lettering says "HOUSE OF CARDS". Is it a funhouse? A fortune teller? No one's sure who set it up. Perhaps another effort of Captain Tuttle or something.

There is a sign on the double doors that make up the entrance, which reads, "Admission is free, but you must enter in pairs." And true to its word, the doors will not open unless two different people take each door's handle. Otherwise it is definitively locked.

So, choose a companion and go explore! What's the worst that could happen? All you have to do is open the door.

| CONTENT WARNINGS: mild manipulation, unreality, snakes, possible character death. |

Comments

[xiaoxiuya]

Alarmed by the sudden change in Anzu's demeanor, Shen Qingqiu quickly interposes himself between his friend and the cliff, blocking at least a portion of the view from Anzu's sight. "Of course, let's move on," he agrees, gently squeezing Anzu's hand. Once they've passed through the pentacle door (he wishes he could remember what the suites mean, but every story he's ever watched or read that used a tarot motif focused on the major arcana) and taken stock of their surroundings, he gently leads Anzu over to one of the pews.

"Why don't we rest for a minute?" he suggests. "There doesn't seem to be anyone else here but us."

cn: mention of paranoia, past social ostracism

[amourtician]

Sitting down on the bench, still holding on to Shen Qingqiu's hand, Anzu slowly regains some semblance of composure. By way of explanation, feeling like he owes an explanation for such unprofessional conduct, he says, "told I thee, how I came to this place?"

He looks up at Shen Qingqiu beseechingly, as if asking for permission to keep talking; the fear has jolted the old wyrm of paranoia out of its slumber again, and though it's not as perky as it used to be, it's starting to whisper and gnaw again.

And it whispers now, reminding Anzu of the court, and the contingent friendship made there — of how beautiful young men are reluctant to put up with one who had once been shattered and has put himself back together, and the more grey hair one has, the less goodwill one is extended.

And it's been two or three weeks now since Anzu finally stopped keeping up the illusion of his hair still being black.

[xiaoxiuya]

Shen Qingqiu isn't good with emotions like this, and Anzu's obvious distress has left him somewhat flustered. But he could never be so cruel as to turn away from him, not when his need is so clear and great. Shen Qingqiu kneels on the floor, giving his friend a sympathetic look.

"Was it a fall from a height?" he asks gently, still holding Anzu's hand. "I can sympathize. There were other things going on --" Such as the dissolution of all of his spiritual veins at once and the catastrophic loss of all of his spiritual energy -- "but I fell off a roof, myself. It's nothing to be ashamed of."

cw: discussion of death and also meningitis

[amourtician]

Oh no. Oh no, he's kneeling in front of Anzu, just like Leyb does, and for just a moment, Anzu's head feels like it'll fly apart from being spun in two directions at once. But he gets a hold of himself, and squeezes Shen Qingqiu's hand gently.

"Nu, darling, I don't mind telling thee ... I, ah, slipped on some wet leaves, exposed by the first of the spring melts, and I fell off the plenum's edge, and I must've met mine end in the shallow Silver. I had gone out to the outskirts of the city, see'st thou? To talk to HaShem like mine husband always says I ought, because mine husband was lying in the hospital, dead to the world with a fever of the brain, and I knew not if he'd survive. And I suppose, ah. I suppose it was foreseen and ordained for me, and for him, that we should come here, but ..." he shrugs. "I have always hated heights, and I hate them all the more now."

[xiaoxiuya]

Shen Qingqiu is deeply concerned by how Anzu reels, as if from a blow to head, and he watches his friend carefully, a sympathetic frown on his face, even as he listens to the painful things that Anzu seems to need to share.

Once it's over, Shen Qingqiu sighs quietly, lowering his gaze. "A very sad story indeed, and it pains me to hear it," he sighs. He's still holding Anzu's hand. He seems to be studying it absently as he says, "I've died...twice now. The second time was falling off a roof, as I said. The first time...I made a mistake, and ate food that had spoiled. I wasn't a cultivator then...I only had a normal person's defenses against illness. It took me several hours to die."

He smiles at Anzu sadly. "It's only natural that experiences like these would leave their mark on us. It's nothing to be embarrassed about --" He says, like a total hypocrite -- "The important thing to remember is that you're safe for now. I won't let anything happen to you."

[amourtician]

Anzu watches Shen Qingqiu study his hand, and tries to keep his cool. He can lose his head all he likes once they're out of here.

At least Shen Qingqiu holding his hand like this is helping him calm down. The shock of seeing the cliff, the vertigo of being so close to a precipice ... they're both starting to fade into the inconsequential patchwork of daily memory. Just another encounter with a dizzying height; unsettling and as unique as any event, but ultimately hardly unique enough, to justify clinging on to the memory.

(But unsettling enough to justify clutching Shen Qingqiu's hand for a little while, for sure.)

He shakes his head, decisively.

"Thou'rt right, darling," he says, softly. "And I certainly trust thee to keep me safe, nu?" he winks. "And I shan't question thee on how thou managed'st to die twice but get up and walk away still living both times. Unless our white-haired little old lady of a malekh isn't the only one to seek help from souls what have departed but not yet arrived ... oy. Feh. Later, we'll have time for me to press thee on such questions. Later."

The spell thrown over him by the sight of the cliff has passed, and he's back to himself.

"But, ah. We ought to decide how to move on, yes?"

He sits up straight, and cranes his head to get a better look at the altar.

"I know not thy mind, darling, but I would prefer to pay for safe passage rather than take our chance with the other door," he says. "But, ah. Pay with what? Leyb's got my purse."

He lifts his free hand and examines the cufflink, trying to figure out if leaving a pair of cufflinks would be enough or if it'd be too trivial. There's always the brooch keeping his cravat together ... it was a gift from Lev, to celebrate their unexpected reunion in Pumpkin Hollow.

He unclips the brooch, and loosens the cravat knot.

"'Tis of some sentimental value," he says, musingly, holding the brooch up. "It's a rather nice brooch, nu? If the sentimental value matters not to the dish."

He does feel more than a twinge of regret at parting with the brooch. But the other matter — the fact it might be an offering at a strange altar — bothers him not at all. By him, it's just a carnival game, after all — leaving a piece of jewellery in the bowl is about as much a matter of worshipful service as paying for a ticket at a theatre.

[xiaoxiuya]

"Yes yes," Shen Qingqiu amiably lies. "I'll tell you everything later." As if! Nobody needs to hear about how pathetic he is, getting yanked around from one universe to another by gods and whatever the fuck the system was! It's a ridiculous story that he'd be just as happy to forget.

He agrees that paying the toll will probably unlock the superior path, but he still gasps out loud and puts a restraining hand on Anzu's arm when he realizes he's serious about offering up the brooch. "Oh doctor, you mustn't!" he exclaims. "What if you don't get it back? What will Lev think?"

As an alternative, he suggests, "Why don't we cut off a lock of my hair instead, and offer that? I've got plenty of it, after all, it's not like anyone will notice."

[amourtician]

Anzu raises an eyebrow at Shen Qingqiu's offer.

"If thou'rt willing to take the risk, darling ..." he begins, then pauses. Shen Qingqiu did say he'd keep Anzu safe, after all. "Nu. If thou'rt sure, I shan't insist otherwise."

He affixes the brooch back into its place, and doesn't clarify why he thinks offering a lock of hair might be risky. Either Shen Qingqiu holds that sympathetic magic exists and works, or he doesn't. Anzu himself is rather ambivalent on the idea, but mostly unwilling to find out for himself.

"Hast thou scissors, or a blade on thy person, then?"

[xiaoxiuya]

So far as Shen Qingqiu knows, anything that could break through his cultivation to land a supernatural attack would be strong enough that it wouldn't need his hair to do it -- it could just suck the breath out of his lungs or something creepy like that. So it costs him nothing to give up some of his hair, and if it will spare Anzu having to sacrifice one of his precious keepsakes, then he's quite happy to do it.

"I'll be alright," he tells Anzu gently. "And yet, let me just --" This ridiculous man bends over and pulls up the hem of his robe, exposing a length of calf and a small dagger strapped to his boot. "I left my sword at home because I thought I'd be off-duty," he says sheepishly. "But I saw this in the armory the other day and thought it was cool. Here." He offers it handle first to Anzu and then turns around, carefully unpinning his hair and lifting the top layer off the back of his neck. "Cut it from the underlayer, okay? That way no one will notice."

[amourtician]

Anzu is briefly struck speechless, but he obligingly takes the dagger, quietly thankful that Shen Qingqiu handed it over in a manner that would prevent inviting strife into their friendship.

It's not at all the flash of leg, but Shen Qingqiu's graceful movements.

"If thou'rt sure, darling," he mumbles, carefully selecting a strand of Shen Qingqiu's hair — he resists the urge to run his fingers through his hair, figuring that'd probably be unwelcome and off-putting at this point.

He cuts a lock off with the dagger, and tuts.

"Even if it shall attract not no notice, still seems something of a shame, dearest."

[xiaoxiuya]

"It's only hair," Shen Qingqiu says quietly. "This body wasn't even originally mine, so --" So it's not even a gift from his own parents that he's rejecting? That's a little backward, actually, now that he thinks of it. He changes course instead, assuring Anzu, "It will grow back before you know it. Now, let's see what happens..."

He pins his hair back in a loose half-knot before leading the way up to the alter, putting the strand of hair in the bowl himself. The door opens, letting them out onto a crowded town street.

"Ah, careful," Shen Qingqiu says, resting a hand on Anzu's arm. "We'd best not get separated here."

[amourtician]

Anzu doesn't quite have the presence of mind to fully interrogate the whole this body wasn't even originally mine thing, but it's startling enough that he says, "feh, darling, in theory, I was born not, and exist not, and I still mislike having my hair cut unnecessarily."

But he follows Shen Qingqiu through the door, and into the phantasmal crowd.

The strange undulation of the crowd is overwhelming; he's briefly reminded of certain experiences in the Silver, but the Silver is something he can navigate by virtue of being connected to it, in sleep and in waking, through it being a part of his world, a place where he has to work, a place and a state he has known his whole life.

Here, he cannot even begin to see where he could get a foothold.

He takes Shen Qingqiu's hand.

"Easiest way to be separated not, nu?" he says; he rather regrets not being able to come up with something more charming, but really — this isn't the place or the time. "If thou hast any clue how to navigate this chaos, ah. Please tell me, darling — I know not whether these illusions shall permit me to dictate their course."

[xiaoxiuya]

"It almost reminds me of home," Shen Qingqiu makes light of the situation with an easy grin. "Let's just go with the flow, see where it takes us. It will be easier than trying to fight against this crowd."

There are so many things he'd like to ask Anzu, like what he means when he says he wasn't born and doesn't exist when clearly he does, and Shen Qingqiu appreciates his existence very much, but this is neither the time or place. Instead he gives Anzu's hand a comforting squeeze and guides him through the crowd like a fish through water, the old habits of a born and raised Beijinger (population 21.705 million) returning to him in his hour of need. It's not long before they reach the door on the left...

Shen Qingqiu cries out in surprise as he suddenly finds himself hip deep in running water, his grip tightening on Anzu's hand nearly to the point of pain before he realizes there's no real danger that his companion will be swept away. He relaxes for the moment -- although not to the point of letting go. "Oh dear, did I choose the wrong door?" he wonders out loud.

[amourtician]

Anzu follows Shen Qingqiu through the crowd, silent, eyes closed — he's no stranger to urban density, but that doesn't mean he likes it ... and he tries to avoid crowds when he can. Memories of the barricades linger still. He's grateful that his new friend and colleague is both so good at navigating city streets and also either so confident or so oblivious as to unselfconsciously and not untenderly hold another man's hand.

The water startles him — he grips Shen Qingqiu's hand tighter in turn, but that's the only indication he gives of fright or alarm, even as his heart hammers frantically in his ears.

"Clothes dry out, darling, and neither of us is so old as to succumb to pneumonia," Anzu says, flippantly, and then, realising that he skipped the main point and supplied merely the explanation, sheepishly adds, "thou chose'st as thou chose'st. As long as neither of us falls—" he shrugs. "After the bloody ships, this is nothing, nu?"

[xiaoxiuya]

"I suppose so," Shen Qingqiu agrees sheepishly. "But stick close, won't you?" He pats Anzu's hand on his arm, indicating that he should just leave it there. It has nothing to do with the fact that Shen Qingqiu has begun to rather enjoy the weight and presence of it, nothing at all.

He startles himself, however, when he feels some cold and slimy brush against his leg. "Okay, no. Absolutely not," he says, and reaching over he easily scoops Anzu up into his arms, cane and all. "We're getting out of here."

He begins to charge through the water, straight towards the waiting door, moving fast enough that his hair trails behind his back like a great black banner. The noise he makes from splashing is immense, and beneath the surface a great black shape continues to circle closer and closer...But it doesn't strike, and after Shen Qingqiu and Anzu pass through the door they find themselves once more on the sunny cliff, an offered reward glowing in their minds.

"Oh thank goodness." Shen Qingqiu sags slightly and gently sets Anzu back on his feet. "I'm not sure what I would have done, if that thing had tried to eat us."

[amourtician]

Anzu squeaks, half in delight and half in surprise when Shen Qingqiu picks him up and rushes off through the water. He closes his eyes as Shen Qingqiu races the serpent, the baby cousin of the Leviathan, lurking in the water. And then they're through the door, in the sunlight, and though the ocean rolls out like a carpet beyond a cliff-edge, he's too relieved to be safe, too giddy to be in another man's arms like this—

—as much as he adores his husband, as much as no one could replace Lev for him ... when they had been discussing marriage, he and Lev both agreed: emotional monogamy might be non-negotiable, ménage à trois aside — should such an opportunity arise, something neither of them thought likely — but the marriage had to be open in some sense.

Really, the upshot of it all is, he's too happy to care about the cliff-edge.

"We made it," he breathes. "Ah, darling. We made it!"

[xiaoxiuya]

"We did!" Shen Qingqiu laughs as well, and with a surge of relief he throws his arms around Anzu once more for a brief hug. Very brief; he quickly lets go again, brushing brightly.

"Well!" he says, flustered. "I suppose we're free to go then, apart from our reward? What would you like?"

[amourtician]

Anzu hugs him back, but he's briefly puzzled by how quickly Shen Qingqiu lets go. Didn't he just bridal-carry him away from monsters?

But there'll be time to dwell on that later ... even if he is suddenly worried he misread the signs of decidedly unplatonic interest from his friend. It is, however, only a faint worry. He's old enough to be quite confident in his judgement calls regarding whether other men are interested in him. And he's quite good at telling when it'd be a bad idea to follow up directly.

In this case, he decides, he really ought to be careful not to startle Shen Qingqiu. Let him broach the subject, when he's ready. They've got time, after all.

But as for the matter at hand, Anzu shakes his head with a laugh.

"I have not no bloody clue, darling," he says, cheerily. "When pressed to ask for anything, my immediate answer is often something so mundane as to be a bit of a waste of a miracle."

[xiaoxiuya]

"Oh, but it'd be an even bigger waste not to ask for anything," Shen Qingqiu rejoins. He hums and says, "Please don't think me too vain, but...I'm inclined to ask for my jewelry box. I had a few very nice fans and hair pieces stored in there that I rather miss." He's already decided that he doesn't care how men are supposed to look in this society, he'll go ahead and be fancy if he wants to. It's part of his culture, after all, and if anyone tries to give him a hard time about it he'll just puff himself up and call them racist. That should shut them up nicely.

[amourtician]

Anzu considers Shen Qingqiu's words, and then says, cautiously, "nu, ah. I suppose thou make'st a good point. It would be for my bridegroom's sake as much as for mine—"

He sighs.

"I'd like to have our Shas set. With the annotations in pencil and the tea stains on the flyleaf of Tractate Bava Metziya."

And then he smiles at Shen Qingqiu, and adds, "I think a little vanity becomes some people, nu?"