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Kettil was trailing a little after Freya. After his trials of the day he was a little bit unsettled for the most part. He didn't realize where he was. He only heard music.

Music he could not identify.

It was rabbit music. He was sure of it. Kettil soon located Freya and wandered over to her.

"We must flee," he said suddenly and began to drag her off. "Rabbits everywhere."

"Fright Mu....?"

where had he heard that before?

Ricar's eyes grew wide in realization. "Wait a minute!" He started pulling things out of his pocket... bits of strings, archaic shop toys, a couple of of [can't find the dictionary... *insert word for cellphone*] "Wait a minute!" ...

When he ran out of room in his hands, he started dumping things unceremoniously on the floor. A tiny rat-shaped creature ran out of his pocket, down his leg and out the door at one point.

A folded piece of paper fluttered to the ground along with a small metal disk, a bit larger than a coin that made a loud sound when it hit the floor. Slightly open, the paper was obviously a list of sorts, but only the first entry was visible.



Spying the paper, Ricar bent down to the floor started stuffing the other objects back into his pockets. "I was supposed to find you I think.."

"I... I'm supposed to become a member" Ricar looked dejected as he spoke slower, looking around at some of the bits of string, a wood toy, the metal and one [cell phone] clearly wasn't going to fit back into his pocket. "member of.... your club... but I don't... have an instrument."

Looking even more dejected, Ricar looked helplessly at the other bits of junk, picked up the paper and just stood up, grinning sheepishly. "So umm... how does that work? I'm Ricar by the way."

Ricar was visibly relieved.
"Oh, good. Thank you. I wasn't really sure how that would work." Ricar handed the paper over to Roch and picked up the junk, throwing it in the nearest trashcan.
"I like that song, by the way."

OOC:2nd Try

Vanya stuffed the piece of paper back in her purse and tilted her head. "A prize? How lovely; thank you." Shifting awkwardly, she glanced around a moment before shaking her head. "I can't really decide which one I like. Surprise me?"

As the room started to get more occupants, Vanya began to feel a little cramped. Normally she'd love people around; it meant more eyes on her, but today she had a task to complete. "Just.. text me when you want me to pick it up, okay?" Reaching into her bag, she pulled a piece of cardboard from her bag and handed it to Roch. It was embellished and smelled sweet and in fancy gold lettering was her cell number.

Turning, she exited the room. "Thanks for your help! Catch ya later."

Amarus was systematically running out of events to happen in upon. She finally made it to another club setup, and some of the beanbags looked questionable but comfy-- it might even be nice to sit down and nap for a while, she thought, covering her mouth as she yawned. Mmm, sleep. There were snacks, but she wasn't terribly hungry at the moment. She was about to take a seat in one of the beanbags, when she looked over towards the drums suddenly and realized the eyes were following her. That was uncomfortable.

It felt a bit as though they were judging her for wanting to nap. Judgement drum eyes. And that led her to identify the purple-haired Reaper. She stood still, her eyes narrowing, aura shrinking against her skin. She wondered if he remembered her, or that one awkward and strange encounter in the halls. Amarus' memory was fairly long, at times, and apparently this was one of them. She did need some kind of Reaper for her scavenger hunt, however, though she doubted he was the one.

So she approached him. Half to find out if he remembered, half to see if he was the right kind of Reaper. "You aren't a Grim Reaper, or know of one, by any chance?" Amarus asked, tilting her head and resting her hands on her hips momentarily.

She'd hoped they had resolved their dispute, in so far as one could resolve a matter that neither party felt remotely sorry for. It seemed like potentially not. Honestly, given Ghost and Reaper relationships were not exactly harmonious, Amarus hardly knew much about them. The closest she came was knowing Sparrow in passing. Oh, wait, and Kettil, but he had a familiar so she constantly forgot-- Mac slipped her mind at that moment.

"I have not met one who uses a bladed instrument," she muttered, crossing her arms over her chest. Then she sighed, and tried to relax. "I'm pretty sure we can agree we don't like each other, yes?" She began, "But--" she was about to continue to attempt an uneasy truce when he just got distracted by his own weapon.

Let's try this again, she thought. "Hello, Roch," she addressed him, suddenly, and slipped a paper over to him with scavenger items. Only the first one, Blue-eyed, was crossed off. "I am Amarus, a Lotus-Eater, and I would appreciate it if you'd sign under Grim reaper. It is nice to meet you."

"Because we never really met," she said, arching a brow. "How's the club booth going?"

Amarus had come a long way from the young ghoul who had picked fights with everything that moved. She missed it, those were simpler times, but she was far more civil now.

It was making her pride bristle to be nice to him, but she just shrugged her shoulders and tilted her head so that the ringing of her own bells helped clear her mind. "Your new sister? How did that happen? And why did she join, if she does not like you?" Amarus was trying to understand this concept. Family was a foreign notion to the ghost. She loved to fight, it was true, but almost never fought with weaponry. Bare-handed combat was her best asset, particularly her kuji-kiri strikes.

"Thank you for signing it," she said, reaching to hold it. She grabbed hold, and then paused, her eyes narrowing. "Since I am making an effort to start anew, let me just explain this one more time, now that we are both.. more calm," she began, "It was an accord, and Danny kicked me in the gut as her half of the bargain. It was a fair exchange. If I were to make one of those exchanges with you, it would equally be one hit, for one hit."

She folded the paper up and set it inside her over robe again. "I would offer to join your club, but I have absolutely no skill with music of any sort. I cannot even complete simple activities related to music," she said, shaking her head. It was true; the only music-related skill she had at all was some rudimentary swing-dancing Mot had taught her. "That, and I suspect you cannot quite abide by my presence."

Suddenly, she added, "No one lets me punch anything any more," sounding vaguely like she was sulking, even if her face was relatively blank.

Amarus's eyes narrowed again, not in irritation but because she was perplexed. He didn't explain his sister, but she did not entirely care to pry anyway; secrets were of no concern to her. She just didn't have an interest in them. Not knowing them, not talking about them. "I am no musician, so I can ruin my hands if I like," she said. Though she didn't, not really; punching was actually quite rare for her, most of her moves involved palm thrusts and moves meant to break bone. Less about impact, more about precision. "Makes sense that you would wield a weapon, for your own skill set; I, however, have little in terms of raw power."

They were just different, when it came down to it. She sincerely did not understand where the disconnect was. "I had no interest in actually fighting her," she protested, trying desperately to get where Roch was coming from, "How, exactly, did you hear the story of what happened?" At the time, Danny had been happy about the proposal. That was why it baffled Amarus most.

"I felt absolutely no aggression towards her," she protested. And then, a little sadly, "Combat is the only activity which allows me to relate to others." She folded her hands together, and stared at the wall, refusing to make eye contact. If she did, she would probably never finish her train of thought. "I could not feel anything, not even affection for friends, so while others are happy to chat and hug and hold hands..." she shrugged, "The only way I could communicate was through what I did best. It is still difficult."

She shrugged again, and kept her face vaguely unfocused. She still did not feel remorseful at all, and would probably never apologize. In her eyes, she had done nothing wrong, and she really did not understand where Roch was coming from. Still, her sense of inner calm made it nigh impossible to feel aggression or keep a grudge.