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His eyes were closing again.

Zzzzz—WHAP!

West sat up with a gasp, launching his toys several feet away as he glared up at the strix. Now why hadn't he thought of beatings as a solution to mysterious lethargy? Oh, right. That whole "content to keep hugging things and being useless" phase he'd just been enjoying suffered through. Luckily, the glare only lasted a moment. He took Muka's hand and climbed back to his feet with the boil's help, shaking his head and grinning.

"Yer... okay. Y'know that?" West's words were kind of tantamount to him giving Muka a giant man-hug right in front of everyone. A moment of grateful staring ensued, then passed as the demon was clocked in the back of the head with another toy.

He whirled around, unable to tell if it had been a taunt or an attack or... a mistake. That ghoul, the one he was pretty sure had thrown her toy at him, was crying. West cleared his throat and looked away. He wasn't terribly good with crying anything, let alone crying ghouls.

And speaking of crying, where had his sobby toys ran off to? He kicked at some of the remaining misfits at his feet, but none of them were his. Soon after, however, he heard the thin, simultaneous wail of three tiny voices. "Yayyyyyyyyyyy!" they cried. West turned just in time to see his stuffed creations climb up the Furnace King's leg and burst into flames.

Willpower: 9

Terra sniffled, wiping at her tears (they were smearing her makeup!!) and seeing what she had done. "Oh--oh, lo siento, senor, I did not--I was aiming--" she flushed. "I am sorry for hitting you," she said. "I will aim better this time," she added, picking up the severed head toy.

She threw it at the furnace king, this time hitting.

Sharra watched the two zombie students reunite, and quickly gathered that they were siblings, or at least related, before the ghoul even opened her mouth to inform the demon. He did feel rather bad for her, as this was hardly the pleasant induction into Amityville outings that she had likely been wishing for. Then again, the Nergal had to admit that as far as these outings went this...this had gone pretty well. No one was dead yet. Well...save maybe that big mechanical guy over there with the crown.

What was with that crown anyway?

But there were introductions being made. The blond demon gave a bit of a half-bow, mustering up the most polite of smiles considering the situation. "It's nice to meet you, Sophie...circumstances not withstanding."

Turning to the other, he waved a hand to Alex, "Hey...nice to meet you too." He vaguely remembered the zomboil from that battle, all truth told, but suffice to say that Sharra's memory of that particular chaos was sketchy at best. He remembered fighting, the behemoth, standing close to Red...but if one asked him to point out which students had been nearby, or who had been the catalysts of the chaos, well... He remembered Aksaja? "The name's Sharra." Lobbing another toy at their fallen foe, he nodded sympathetically with Alex's wry explanation, "I hear ya. All in all this is kind of sad." For how intense the battle had been with the Furnace King, this epilogue was, frankly, obnoxious and a little disheartening. It made Sharra want to shove the toys to their doom a touch faster so they would stop clamoring in their shrill, needy voices. "Some party we're having here... Christmas has to be seriously screwy to produce this disaster." Creepy talking toys? The Nergal would have been way more comfortable if they'd come from Halloween.

Oh, yeah, Anna was more than willing to sacrifice toys to the Furnace King. Especially if they were caterpillars. Very deliberately, with a dark gleam in her eyes, the witchling selected three caterpillar toys - possibly the one's she'd made, but there were so many that it was impossible to know. They made garbled noises in her hands.

She flung them without a second's remorse.

Tomoko was all for the toy hugging party going on, squeezing her remaining toy tightly and leaning her head against it. "It's okay, I love you just the way you are..." she murmured over and over again even as the toy tried to wiggle free.

The Furnace King would remain largely ignored in favor of the moirail toy rehab going on.

Hearing a familiar voice freaking out, Shun turned and saw Mot throwing toys at the furnace king. He just sort of stared flatly.

"They're just toys."

Mot watched as the selfless and slightly disturbed toys rose against the might firey King, his own fiery eyes watching in amazement. And maybe a little abject horror. This was, after all, a very disturbing thing to watch. The happy cries of misguided abominations as they died burned themselves into Mot's mind, a worried and desperate look on his expression.

"I think... I need to burn my old toys next time I go home..." In case they ever revolted for his negligence.

Soon the chaos simmered and all that was left was a crown. Had this been the source of all that? Could an object be a catalyst for such power? Thing was, Mot had a thing for crowns. He'd gotten his first one as Prom Prince in his first year at Amity, and his second in his first field trip. He had two now. He could.. really go for a third. And lets be honest, that was a badass looking crown. It would go amazingly with his new cloak.

Besides the odd fascination for head gear, something else drew him closer, oblivious to the many other students clambering for possession of the object; That crown was his. It belonged to him. He could hear the distant whisper of it begging for him to claim it as his own. No one else needed this as badly as he did. They were fooling themselves. Mot's usually laid back mindset was twisting into something; greed was slowly painting murals in his heart.
There was no one there. Nothing existed in that moment but that crown.

That black feeling enveloped Mot, he could take no more as his body moved without will. That crown would be his.

He wasn't sure if he was walking or running, slow or fast. Time wasn't an issue, as his focus was soley on the object. He kept imagining it on his head, letting it fill him with amazing power; more power that that silly denzien of Christmas town had. As a reaper, as a being of Halloween, he could use this on a scale no one else could ever hope to achieve. People would Fear him. Fear his power, and in turn, he would be a Jack Damn King.

He wasn't sure when he was pushed back, or if he'd been pushed back at all. Suddenly it was all white. Colours formed in the corners of his eyes, slowly creeping into his immediate line of sight. They dances and bled into each other, forming a dark, crimson red. Ah, it was so beautiful. The world was dark, easy on the eyes. Towers and pikes, jagged and black, framed the world that was his own. The skies were such a deep, bloody red. The fields burning in hues of red and black. This was his town. his Kingdom. A safe haven for those he cared most for, and a warning to those who would dare oppose him. Those pikes that surroudned the city, were stained in red.

Crimson Red, after all, was his favorite colour.

Someone was ran before him, oddly coloured hair cascading around themselves. Rushing to his side and patting his arm gently, they whispered to him, and him alone. Sure, he was feared, but so long as everyone knew what he was capable of, so long as they respected him, friendly gestures and casual conversation were allowed. After all, it was lonely at the top. To push them all away would be a cruel fate. No, he kept his friends at his side. They were free to live their lives, but there were limits. Certain things just did not fly in his kingdom. Those who disobeys, dared to do things against his own morals. Those were the people who simply.. vanished. Some say hey often saw a great bonfire the night said beings vanished.

But today was special. Everyone was there in the town's courtyard. The black rose gardens decorated the charred stone. Everyone looked to him anxiously waiting. Who would fight for their King in the tournament? He'd made many new friends since gaining this power. Some due to fear, others to keep safe from anything else that was out there. Some just felt drawn.
If only he could choose them all. They all wanted to gain his favor, and he felt most humbled by it, really. But... there were only a select few he would keep by his side. Those who knew him best, those who would fight for him, even without his power. Those were his true allies. His true Knights.

Mot remained calm, his air of carefree nature and nervous twitches long gone. His voice low, careful. His ego had grown larger since gaining this power. As a King, he fought to keep it controlled. No one wanted to follow a King who wielded their dark side like a weapon. Besides, he was a friend first. Always a friend first.

This tournament would be a grand party. With his two most cherished friends by his side, he would fight to his fullest. Fight to protect them, protect his kingdom, and claim the most desired title of all.

And then.. he would truly have found a higher state of being. He would find his self worth. Surely. Finally. He would be proud of his own skin.