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 Posted: Mon Oct 31, 2016 10:22 am
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  EVENTRp Contest Premade purpleblood and premade redblood.Gender can be chosen by the winner. Growth is templated.
For more information on the festival associated with these trolls go here!
Its that time again! The one night of the sweep where even the most prissy troll lets their hair down for some good, old fashioned mischief. Yes, Terror Night is on Alternia again. On your block, each year, there's a little 'friendly' competition between you and one of your neighbors - a troll from the opposite end of the hemospectrum who is about as different from you as is possible. It started out a few years ago, and has been growing in size and infamy each Terror Night. Now, neighbours gather and gossip about your once-a-sweep war, wondering what will happen this time, and who will come out on top.
What exactly are you two competing over, and how does it relate to Terror Night? Are you both equally invested in it, or is it more of a one-sided battle? Who's winning overall? Is it a tie? Do you enjoy the competition, or hate it? Most importantly, who's winning? Give us some insight into this feud from your troll's point of view, as they prepare for, or compete against their neighbour directly on Terror Night.
Entries must be 250 words minimum, from the viewpoint of the troll you are writing for, in third person past tense. Please don't edit your posts after submitting!
Users can submit as a team of two, with each user writing for one troll, or users can submit solo for only one of the trolls. If solo, the troll they are competing against can be a random npc, if in teams, then the troll they are competing against should be the other premade. If users are submitting as a team, please clearly mark which troll/what writing was done by which user. |
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Posted: Fri Nov 11, 2016 9:05 pm
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DISCLAIMER: We weren't sure what exactly was allowed with regards to ancestors and the extent of the things we wrote about and opted more to just have as much fun and make it as interesting a read as possible. That said, we are both more than agreeable to make adjustments or outright remove certain factors so that they fit more in line with the shop's expectations.
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THE VENEFICA AND THE CONJURER
MALEFI NOCTIS * ex o ex Snoof NIMMUE LEFAYE * Rookeries
Once upon a time, many, many sweeps ago, there was ladytroll named The Conjurer. The greatest witch in all of Alternia, she used great magic to remove all ailments and invigorate fleets. Born from the farthest reaches of the Busthind Mountains, The Conjurer bested every element, tamed every herb, and brewed the finest elixirs. Highbloods and lowbloods alike were in awe of her magnificent power.
Except for one: the pesky Venefica. The rude, pestilent Venefica, who never used her magic for good. After the Venefica and the Conjurer’s meeting and subsequent feud - a battle that was said to halve mountains and part clouds - their anguish and hatred carried on through their bloodline. And so came their heirs, a redblood and purpleblood destined to meet by the fate written in their ancestor’s tomes.
That was what Nimmue Lefaye had believed, at least. And this Terror Night, after two sweeps of horrible loss, she was determined to right all of the wrongs the Venefica had unleashed upon her ancestor a millenia ago.
How, you ask?
By making the best candy ever.
And if every troll in her neighborhood was too lazy to cross a moat to get to her mansion? Fine. Nimmue Lefaye, witch incarnate, six sweeps of stubbornness and muster, was going to build the best booth ever.
“My candy has glitter in it,” Nimmue said, airily, tossing another handful of sparkles at her otherwise pristine black-and-gold booth. She hadn’t bothered taking a look at her booth yet - not closely, anyway, but Nimmue knew the candy she had was nothing short of enviable and perfect. Nimmue had almost felt pity for her competition, but she cackled away the thought, enveloping herself in her booth drapery.
“What about yours?” she asked, sneering at the Venefica’s heir - Malefi Noctis, to be exact, a witch who only had a dilapidated old hut in Chittentown to her name. It was a wonder why people loved her magic - or maybe they pitied her, too, like Nimmue did.
***
The opposite booth was certainly dingier by comparison, not quite ramshackle but far more humble than the purpleblood’s decorations. It was mostly covered with tattered black fabric spread out like leathery wings. Manned by one Malefi Noctis, redblood and descendant of the Poisoner, The Venefica; and like the dreaded rival of the Conjurer, she held an air of malcontent around her -- unlike her ancestor, this air was misleading.
Malefi sat at her booth while Nimmue set up her own. She watched with a calm if not sour expression that changed little when the purpleblood spoke. “Glitter,” the lowblood repeated with a dull tone. Her own assortment of candies were laid out on a red cloth, twisted up in black paper. Though you couldn’t see them through it, they looked a little misshapen. “Mine have crispies. They’re chocolate.”
It was two sweeps ago, two Terror Nights past, that this “tradition” started: with a total coincidence, or at least that was what she thought at the time. A highblood in a lowblood town, there was no way Nimmue wouldn’t become a spectacle somehow, and did she ever. They came across each other in the same costume and that, Malefi thought, was where everything started. A full declaration of rivalry was announced and Malefi was challenged to a contest of candy acquisition, which she didn’t pay much attention to while making her usual rounds across the lawn rings. She couldn’t quite remember what the outcome was, but the other little witch certainly didn’t seem happy with her results. By the following Terror Night, the challenge was changed to the amount of candy given out and once again Nimmue was displeased.
Now, it seemed, the challenge was the quality of candy.
“They’ve got goo inside so when you bite them it looks like they’re bleeding.” Malefi poked at one of the candies. It rolled once, then fell still on a side that was clearly more flat than it was meant to be.
***
Nimmue bristled when Malefi replied, having expected silence on the redblood’s behalf. She tidied her booth, smoothing out the cloth, fangs biting into her lower lip as she listened. “Chocolate, how blase,” the purpleblood blurted, wanting to interrupt her, but her voice came out muted, almost shy.
If the Venefica’s heir was trying to intimidate her, it was working. The more she explained, the more Nimmue thought the candy was genius - and she clenched her fists, turning away from Malefi’s booth. “Well, that sounds amazing,” Nimmue admit, huffing through her nose. She grabbed one of her own candies, staring at it; true to what she had said, it was covered in glitter. It was a hard candy, wafting of lavender, that was wrapped pristinely in a translucent purple wrapping.
“But mine’s better. I’m going to win this year, Malefi Noctis,” she said, finally turning around to face her rival, puffing her chest up with her booth’s drapery wrapped around her shoulder. She flustered at the fellow witch, shoulders tightening, as she took in her booth; the cloth she chose was shoddy at best, and the candy deplorable to look at.
Her face fell for a moment, but she turned back towards her booth. She sat squarely in her seat. “You’ve put up a decent fight, but this year, it’s over.”
***
The redblood merely shrugged at her opponent’s sarcastic assessment. While Nimmue gloated, built herself up, Malefi checked the time. It was still a little early for the real festivities to begin but there were trolls milling about their hivestems. Their booths were situated within easy sight and reach, side by side, in the center of their adjacent lawn ring.
“Okay,” she replied to the highblood, not sounding perturbed in the least. Malefi glanced at the ornate hard candy, brows raised curiously over her narrowed eyes. The wrapping was attractive, and her booth’s decoration eye catching even in the dark. There was little doubt in the lowblood’s mind that it was Nimmue’s booth which first attracted attention and before long a couple of fellow warmbloods tread closer. When they caught sight of Malefi, they waved with familiarity.
“Are you just handing it out?” a yellowblood asked as he scrutinized the setup. He was dressed as some sort of cartoonish musclebeast that only looked mildly terrifying thanks to its bulging eyestalks.
Beside him, another redblood took a closer peek at the trimmings of Malefi’s booth. “Or do you want trolls to run up and jump you?” Her costume wasn’t much better, just a dim glow in the dark red skeleton body suit.
Another shrug from the so-called Venefica’s heir. Malefi leaned an elbow against the booth and propped her cheek against her palm. “Do you want one or not?” Both of the trolls straightened up and nodded. “You get one each.” At this, she looked to Nimmue for confirmation.
***
Nimmue had worn the same Terror Night garb since her fateful meeting with Malefi Noctis three sweeps ago - it was a fitting ceremonial garb that represented the start of their rivalry, she thought, and it was only right to respect that tradition until her inevitable victory. She adjusted her witch’s cap when her bragging was met with but a word on Malefi Noctis’s part, and Nimmue huffed again, preparing herself as she saw two lowbloods approaching their booth. The purpleblood, understanding Malefi’s more silent approach as an air of gracious professionalism, did her best to mirror her. Smiling, she linked her fingers and rested her hands atop her booth, waiting as patiently as she could for their first round of Terror Night-goers to wander towards their booths.
It was hard not to cringe at what Nimmue thought were crude costumes on the yellowblood and redblood’s part. Her neighborhood in New Hemisect City was certainly more prepared for Terror Night than the trolls in Chittentown, but Nimmue quickly berated herself for disrespecting the potential customers of her booth. Instead, she quickly perked when the attention was on her own booth, not Malefi’s.
“That might be what Malefi Noctis may be saying about her candy,” Nimmue began, airily, “But you can take as many as you’d like from my booth. I can assure you, you’ll want more than one,” she boasted, straightening herself out in her seat. She waved one hand across her candy display. “Enjoy, my fellow Chittentonians. I promise you, this candy will invigorate you for the rest of Terror Night!”
***
Such a promise was quick to light up the two lowblood’s eyes. They looked between one another, then back to Malefi; the yellowblood chuckled but the darker witch just rolled her eyes and handed them both their single sampling of candy. Her numbers were limited, which made it difficult to give any troll more than one at a completely free booth. Such a declaration of unlimited candies made Malefi wonder how much Nimmue had prepared.
Of course, once the two trolls received their paltry single serving, they eagerly grabbed handfuls of Nimmue’s candy. The redblood stuffed her pockets with a greedy smirk before she stopped to remove one of the wrappers. She inspected it with the same scrutiny one would hold to a precious gem -- held to a street light, one eye closed, tongue poked from the corner of her lips -- then popped the lavender morsel into her mouth.
The reaction was slow as the redblood’s expression turned from utter contentment to confusion. Her face scrunched up and she spit the hard candy into the palm of her hand.
“What’s in this?” The red troll looked positively aghast. Malefi wondered if it was the glitter.
Her companion laughed as he unwrapped one for himself. “Don’t be such a wriggler.” Despite his apparent certainty, the yellowblood likewise fell prey to the odd flavor. Rather than spit it into his hand, he hocked it clear across the road to another neighbor’s lawn.
“Wow,” Malefi muttered dully as she watched it sail through the night, sparkling with glitter and glistening yellow saliva. “Come on, they can’t be that bad.”
***
Nimmue smiled smugly in Malefi’s direction at the two lowbloods’ seemingly positive reaction to her offerings. Truth be told, the purpleblood had been cautious with her strategy this Terror Night, having underprepared her batch in reflection of the disappointing turnout from last year. Having hoped for thousands of trolls to flock to her hive last Terror Night, Nimmue had poured days of her time into making so many batches of candy that she hardly had space for it all in her living quarters, even though her room alone was larger than some of the hives she had seen across Chittentown.
Nimmue, last competition, had no idea what went wrong. So what if her hive was the only mansion in town? And so what if it was miles away, up in a hill, past a moat filled with acidic slime, guarded carefully by her Owlfather?
Either way - the only candy Nimmue had prepared were on the booth and in a tiny cauldron she had tucked away beneath the table. She smiled past the lingering regret she felt when she saw two lowbloods take a significant portion off of her table, mentally fighting to see this as a victory over Malefi Noctis. Crossing her arms, Nimmue let in a proud breath as the redblood held her beautiful candy up to a streetlight. The praise she expected was beyond worth her efforts and past disappointments.
As the redblood’s expression shifted from pleasure to confusion, though, Nimmue’s own smile fell. “Simple, just some lavender, sugar, rosemary, and… just a dash of mind honey,” she explained hastily. Emboldened by the yellowblood’s jibing, she nodded, hoping his reaction wasn’t similar; but it was worse, and she jumped, quickly grabbing a candy for herself.
Maybe the mind honey was too much - but the Conjurer had theorized that just a bit of it provided a boost in mental simulation even for non-psychic trolls. As she prepared herself to explain it, to excuse away the lowblood’s poor reaction to bad judgment and lack of taste, Nimmue quickly unwrapped a candy and popped one into her mouth.
Nimmue’s eyes were wide as she rolled the candy in her mouth, assessing its flavor. First, her excuses seemed valid. She stared incredulously at the two lowbloods who had insulted her -
Then, just as quickly, the taste of lavender and rosemary were overtaken by salt. She turned to spit the candy out onto the ground, then covered her mouth, mollified.
She turned slowly to Malefi Noctis and her booth.
“You,” Nimmue pointed at her, her face flustering a deep purple hue. “You! Venefica, this is all your fault! What did you do to my candy?!” she blurted, grabbing a fistful of candies off of her booth and tossing it at the redblood. “Explain the spell you used, or I’ll win this Terror Night in a duel, wench!”
***
As soon as Nimmue unwrapped a candy for herself, the two visiting trolls clammed up and watched. Malefi, too, observed with much curiosity though it read on her face as abject boredom. When the foul taste was confirmed, the two lowbloods sighed with relief that it wasn’t just them and, with much less enthusiasm than before, began to empty their pockets of the purple candies and return them to the booth.
Neither could ignore the sudden accusation; they froze where they stood and watched the confrontation despite the so-called Venefica remaining calm. Malefi raised an arm to block some of the candy from hitting her in the face but otherwise made no move to dodge Nimmue’s ammunition.
“Calm down. Did you see me do anything?” she asked, raising both arms and then scooting her chair away from the booth. There was no spell book or any sort of magical tome on hand and not enough room around the booth to properly hide one..
In the midst of the exchange, the two other trolls hurried to empty their pockets and flee before the highblood’s wrath might be turned on them.
Malefi stood from her seat and approached Nimmue’s table. She plucked one of the candies and examined it through the wrapper, out of it, gave it a cursory lick, then smacked her lips. “Yeah, that is not right. I think I know what happened.” The redblood locked eyes with her fellow Terror Night witch and asked, plainly, “Did you taste them before you left your hive?”
***
“You must have planned this - this - this curse - beforehand, you foul, foul - harpy, you shrew! Harridan,” she yelled, roiling with anger. Nimmue Lefaye, as angry as she was, did not notice as the two lowbloods empty the contents of their pockets out on the table. The purpleblood reeled as Malefi Noctis stood from her seat, and she backed away defensively, pulling off the wand pinned to her hat. “Stay away from me! This isn’t the proper distance for a duel, crone,” she said, weakly, sputtering into nervousness near the end of her sentence.
As Malefi Noctis reached for one of her candies, the purpleblood stared, horrified. “What are you doing?” she blurted, staring with disgust as Malefi Noctis tasted her candy. Flustering, Nimmue held her wand between her hands.
“Of - of course you know what happened! Your curse worked. You ruined me,” Nimmue blurted. Truth be told, the wand on her hat was useless, but she pointed it squarely at Malefi Noctis. “What does it matter to you, if I tasted it beforehand or not?!”
***
While Miss Lefaye made a complete spectacle of herself, the redblooded Noctis hardly bat an eye. This sort of behavior, this exemplary poor sportsmanship, was quite in line with the reactions she had during their previous Terror Night encounters and it did little to surprise Malefi. She let the highblood rant on until she was purple in the face, then looked her square in the eye.
“You didn’t taste it, so you have no idea what you were handing out.” Malefi stated this with a droll tone -- no hint of superiority, merely explaining a fact as prompted. She looked back at the candy between her grey fingers and waved airily at Nimmue’s fake wand, as if dismissing it. After another experimental taste of the confection, she nodded.
“I didn’t put a curse on your candy. There’s no sugar in them.”
***
Malefi’s intentions despite, just hearing the redblood drone on in the same neutral tone aggravated Nimmue to no end. She gripped the handle of her wand, tears welling around her eyes the more Malefi Noctis, her dreadful rival and winner of yet again another Terror Night, continued.
Of course Nimmue knew that she hadn’t tasted her candy beforehand. The fact that the Venefica’s heir was lecturing her on her own bad practices stung her. There was no curse, no great magic, but Nimmue wasn’t going to humor Malefi with any subsequent answer.
She stared meekly over at Malefi’s booth for any hint of solace in this embarrassment. The booth, as shoddy as it was, was still properly decorated for Terror Night. The candy, as crude as it looked, was also decently wrapped. But ever the optimist, Nimmue remembered that the redblood and yellowblood hadn’t had the chance to have a bite of Malefi’s offerings before trying hers.
Sprinting past Malefi, Nimmue quickly snatched one of the candies off of the table. After roughly unwrapping one of Malefi’s chocolates, she shoved it into her mouth, ready to prove that the redblood had somehow made a mistake even worse than hers. She bit her fangs into the crunchy exterior, wincing as she prepared for the inside to be awash with salt. Nimmue closed her eyes.
What she got instead wasn’t anything close to salt, but it was bland. As she chewed, tears streamed down her cheeks, and Nimmue stared dumbfoundedly up at Malefi Noctis, heir apparent to the Poisoner, the Venefica, the second greatest witch in all of Alternia.
For the first time in three sweeps, Nimmue Lefaye felt disappointment.
“No… these aren’t even that good,” she murmured. Was it because Malefi Noctis was so sure of her won victory - had she foretold Nimmue’s own great mistake? She took another one of the redblood’s candies off of her booth, staring at the crude shape, the boorish black wrapping. Even if Malefi Noctis had set up her booth right next to her, she hadn’t really studied the confection fully.
“You aren’t even taking this seriously?” Nimmue asked, slowly staring up at the redblood. “Why?”
***
The redblood stared after her counterpart as she bolted for the other booth. Her tumultuous snatch of the candy and resulting look of dejection made Malefi’s head spin but she hardly showed it aside from a slight tilt of her neck. It was the highblood’s tears that finally broke the bat-winged witch’s stony exterior and she blinked, perplexed by such a reaction.
“I don’t know,” she answered dumbly before her mind caught up, “I thought they tasted good enough.”
Malefi shrugged, uncertain what else to say for herself when confronted with Nimmue’s apparent anguish. With a glance to her own booth, she stepped back and took one of her own chocolates. She chewed it with the same level of scrutiny she offered to Nimmue’s candy and, after a short moment, nodded her head. “Yeah, I guess they are kind of boring.” Even if they were sweet like they were supposed to be, they didn’t have much flavor beyond that -- they tasted cheap.
Sighing, she set both candies on the top of her table and crossed her arms. “I guess it’s a good thing hardly anyone’s come up yet. What a waste.”
***
A numbness settled in Nimmue’s heart as she processed the candy she had just eaten. As Malefi Noctis spoke, her words seemed to stream from one ear out the next, and Nimmue quietly unwrapped another chocolate, popping it into her mouth. She heard the words good enough, at least - good enough for whom? Whoever it was, the two greatest witches in Alternia were certainly not among them.
The second morsel was just as bland as the last. When Malefi took a bite herself, agreeing with her assessment, she shook her head. Nimmue Lefaye, wanderer, heir apparent to the miracle-maker of Alternia, was not one to settle easily. “No,” she began, simply, voice strong, calm. “How can you just settle for that? You’re supposed to be the best witch in town. The best one other than me. How can someone who makes mediocre candies be born from someone so notorious?” the purpleblood studied Malefi’s expression.
“This candy wasn’t the best, it wasn’t even that good,” she chided, pointing her wand at the rest of Malefi’s booth. “I can’t accept this! If you’re not the best witch in town, Malefi Noctis, you shouldn’t be…”
“Beating me,” Nimmue murmured, wavering. She sniffed, face flushed, as tears streamed down her eyes. If Malefi Noctis could beat her like this, at what Nimmue could only assume was the redblood’s very worst, Nimmue Lefaye was doomed to be the most mediocre witch in all of Alternia.
She wasn’t worthy of the Conjurer’s tome at all.
Nimmue wailed.
***
Arms folded, Malefi frowned at her own booth. She really had been lazy by comparison, hadn’t she? The more her self proclaimed rival spoke, she could only agree. It wasn’t any matter of life or death -- in all honesty, Malefi found their competitions to be wholly arbitrary but there was something fun about them, a little exciting, and she supposed she lost sight of that somewhere during this sweep. There was some irony felt in the accusations, when they were the only witches in town.
The highblood’s admonishments turned to cries that made Malefi painfully aware of how quiet the area around them was. She looked around, no sign of any other trolls; they must have all been further up the road in the denser parts of Chittentown.
“Hey,” Malefi started, uncertain. She waved a hand weakly, as if that would gain Nimmue’s attention any better through her tears. “I didn’t beat you. We both messed up, let’s say it was a draw.”
She frowned. Her half eaten chocolate sat on its crumpled wrapper oozing sugary teal goo. “Mine’s definitely missing something… do you want to come over and help me make it better?” Knit brows put her expression somewhere between confusion and concern. “We can figure out what happened to your recipe, too.”
***
Nimmue, wailing, slowly knelt to the floor, hands covering her flustered face as more tears threatened to fall. If she had been conscientious of where she was, who she was crying in front of, the purpleblood would have been overwhelmingly embarrassed - but her realization was the worst defeat she had felt in her life. If she was a mediocre witch, she would honor the practice by removing herself of the title. But what was Nimmue Lefaye if not a witch? What would she tell Owlfather?
“Don’t pity me,” Nimmue snapped, wailing still, at Malefi’s first attempt at consolation. “What help do you need from me? Are you mocking me? You don’t even take these competitions seriously,” she cried, staring purplefaced and angrily up at Malefi Noctis, no longer her peer, a troll she wanted to hate. A poison to her esteem. “Go away. This is your victory. I won’t give you another chance to humiliate the Conjurer!”
***
She wasn’t quite sure what response she had been expecting from the invitation, given Nimmue Lefaye’s responses to the results of Terror Nights past, but that wasn’t what she had prepared for. Malefi’s arms dropped to her sides as she frowned, eyes not roaming from the highblood on her knees in the dirt.
“It’s not pity...” For several beats, Malefi wasn’t sure what to say past that. It wasn’t, truly, more of a feeling of camaraderie in their mutual bungle this holiday. Digging her heels in the dirt, Malefi straightened her shoulders and took a more solid stance, a more proud stature before Nimmue. Her voice strengthened in kind as she took on a more self assured and authoritative tone not unlike the one Nimmue often touted. “And it’s no victory. We both failed. What I propose is a rematch. We’ll be on equal ground, both at our peak, and see who the real winner is.”
From there, her strength waned. Malefi settled onto her own knees where she stood and became eye level with the crying witch. She hadn’t realized just how important these competitions were; while she thought of them as little more than a fun routine to spice up the holiday, Nimmue had based so much of her self worth on their rivalry. It was an honor, really, to be pitted so directly and so equally to a highblood.
Softened and humbled, Malefi dipped her head. “I’ll try harder. I’ll try my best.”
***
The anger Nimmue had lashed out with was not quick to dull, but as Malefi stood proudly before her, she straightened her shoulders, wanting to stand just as proudly as the redblood was. But Nimmue was still kneeling, weak and flustered from her crying, and the confidence in Malefi Noctis rekindled something in the purpleblood - that fiery, intense need to do better, to be equal to her.
It felt almost instinctual, this competitive need, and a part of Nimmue Lefaye truly hated it. The purpleblood sucked in her breath. She had heard Malefi Noctis’s proposal for a rematch, and the blistering anger in her wanted to refuse. Instead, she took in a breath, fangs biting her lower lip, as she considered the offer.
“Don’t you ever look down on me again, Malefi Noctis,” Nimmue began, rising to her feet shortly after Malefi knelt. The purpleblood did not immediately regain the confidence in her posture, but she stepped back, the distance between them giving her enough space to take in a breath. She pointed at the redblood - not with her wand, but her finger. “Your ancestor defeated mine, once, and I will never understand it. But the reason, I know, was never mediocrity.”
“I will only accept this offer if you are never mediocre again,” Nimmue said, trying to regain her air of propriety, despite the blush still lingering on her face, the tears still wet around her cheeks. “Do you understand? So rise, you fool.” The purpleblood offered Malefi her hand. She glanced away from her rival, hastily wiping her eyes. “Witches kneel for no one.”
***
There was no anger on Malefi’s side, no bitterness in the rivalry. When Nimmue stood, her eyes followed but she did not match the motion; Nimmue spent her time on her knees, now it was her turn. Except, it seemed, that wasn’t good enough. A knot of disappointment tightened in her gut when Nimmue spoke again and her efforts to quell the situation seemed in vain. Then, with the strength in her voice that the redblood had grown so accustomed, the purple witch cast her judgment.
One corner of Malefi’s mouth twitched and nearly curled up.
She rose to her feet and approached within a polite enough distance. To her, what had been meaningless fun now became something much more; their hands clutched each other with decisive agreement and the promise of a partnership more than a simple rivalry -- at least, that was how it felt to her and that was how Malefi Noctis intended to uphold it.
“Never again,” she swore. It was an arrangement that transcended the hemospectrum and one that Malefi could safely say was unlike anything else she had endured, for better or worse.
END!
***
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Posted: Mon Nov 14, 2016 4:44 am
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Yamadou Entry Written as a team with Doutei! Yamashii is playing the redblood and Doutei is writing for the purpleblood.
The Four Fronds was the ideal location for Terror Night in Lucard Erytho's opinion. A dark forest with plenty of trees to hide behind as you stalked your prey, hoping to spook a scream or two out of them. The usual thick pink foliage was thinning by this time of sweep so pale moonlight could stream in and cast dramatic shadows against the hives in the area. What a perfect crowd to scare too, a bunch of obnoxiously rich highbloods trying to keep the beauty of the forest for themselves through expensive real estate. He'd managed to hollow out the remains of a giant tree stump to make a home for himself in a vain effort to claim some of the fronds for himself.
The last ray of sunlight dipped below the horizon and his eyes narrowed in focus. It was almost time. Lucard put down the beaker he was holding, corking it to keep the contents from any contamination. He could not afford any mistakes this time! His efforts to concoct a working love potion had been disastrous this month and supplies were running low. Lucard didn't need the potion for himself, his personal life was too sour and jaded for that, but for a chance at a better life. If he could pull this off, he'd be drowning in beetles from highbloods attempting to buy their way into quadrants! He would become the best mixologist and potion brewer known to trollkind.
But that day was far from this night. He needed beetles and fast. For that, he was relying on the old Terror Night tradition of scaring a treat out of a spooked victim! And he knew the best troll for the role, one Silica Swarov, the annoying purpleblood down the way who constantly sang loudly while he was trying to concentrate and filled the communal dumpster with her crappy attempts at glasswork. Why did she even bother? She had enough money to just pay a professional rather than waste the materials herself. Hardworking lowbloods needed those beetles to survive. Trying to do it herself was keeping them out of hands that needed them.
An animalistic shriek echoed and he glanced to the window. His lusus had come home.
"Batma'am, you're back already? I'm not done cleaning up- Ugh, fine." Fleshy leathery wings flapped in the air, attached to a white and aggressive looking monkey. She was irritated that her child was running late on such an important night. Reaching through the window, the flying monkey grabbed his arms and dragged him out. Yelping, he grabbed a broom for a weapon before his lusus whisked him into the sky to fly him down to Swarov's hive.
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Tonight was the night!
Dainty mary janes and an impeccably dressed rabbit stepped through the foliage of Four Fronds, slowly approaching a gnarled stump. It was large for a stump, impressively so but the sight of it made her roll her eyes. Fly-riddled cobwebs embraced a creaky shack built into the stump with leaves littered around the front door. He knew she hated being dirty and had let things grime up for the past sweep just for tonight's occasion. Lovely.
"It'll take more than that!" The purpleblood huffed as she stopped in front of the door. Acting brave and confident, Silica Swarov knew just beyond the trees other trolls were watching her. Every year they came. Every year they waited to see who would come out on top.
This year it would be her!
"Wish me luck Sire!" She proclaimed to her lusus and reached to open the front door to her opponent's hive. Then, immediately, she recoiled and flinched as the smell hit her. She would never get used to the mix of scents he kept in his hive. Forcing herself not to gag in front of her wonderful audience, Silica entered the hive and began her search.
Her quest? His flag!
It was a primitive tradition, sure, but she wasn't going to back down! After a crushing defeat last year, she was more than eager to play again. Her pride required it! Also, she'd learned what was truly at stake.
What was at stake? In this improvised game of capture the flag, the pair each hid a flag somewhere in their hive and then booby trapped the fluff out of everything! Whichever troll managed to find their opponent's flag and bring it back home first won! If Lucard won, she had to pay him in beetles. If she won, he had to pay her in labor. The arrangement had worked out very nicely two years ago and his help with her crafting had be invaluable. But after losing last year, she'd been forced to see how much she depended on his help with heavy lifting, having an extra set of hands, inspiration, and... companionship. Even if he was a grump!
So here she was, trudging through a messy house haunted by spiders and broken mirrors, peeking into cabinets.
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The game had evolved since the first confrontation a few sweeps ago but the basics were the same. The goal was to break into the other troll's hive to steal their flag while leaving traps behind to snare the other invader. The loser had to pay an insane amount of beetles (or labor in his poverty-stricken case). Pain was allowed as well as humiliation. Terror Night was 'anything goes' without repercussions or punishments. The more upset you could leave the other, the better really. And Swarov was going to ******** cry tonight if he could help it. All this time living in the shadow of her sparkly pretty palace while he starved in his decaying stump fueled Lucard's loathing of the other troll. At this point, he hated everything about her.
Especially her bad taste. Golden bricks paved the way from her gate to her front door. How many grams of honeyspice could he have bought with the value of her frivolous vanities? It was enough to get a rise out of anyone! Kicking in the front door, he snarled at the garbage inside. Pristine white chairs and little glass elephants arranged neatly in a row. How adorably tacky. Lace cobwebs decorated the place in an elegant manner but did little to actually scare him. What a joke, was she even trying? He had this in the bag. Pushing open a door, he almost chuckled before something suddenly came crashing down on his head and shoulders, setting him off screaming.
"Eaughhhh! Swarov, you piece of s**t!" A stuffed animal coiled around him, a happy looking snake with a ribbon draped off of it, tangling in his legs as he tried to shove it off. Falling to the ground, he bit back the urge to kick the crap out of everything in the room to focus on his task. If he lost it so early, he was going to lose and he could not let that happen. His whole future was riding on besting this haunted house and there was no way he was going to lose to an airhead who's idea of spooky was silken ghosts and black kitten posters winking at him. She was so ******** annoying and she wasn't even here right now!
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"Eeeeew!" Silica shrieked as she discovered an out of control cluster of mushrooms growing inside cupboard number two. Slamming it shut, the girl backed away and stumbled into a trip wire. Ack, he knew her too well! Collapsing onto the floor, she fell on her butt and raised her hands over her head to shield herself. Seconds passed and her pumpbiscuit beat faster, unsure of whether or not to be relieved or even more anxious as nothing else happened. What if he'd set something up as a delayed reaction? The suspense was awful! As a highblood, she was used to everything happening on her terms and her schedule! She hated being out of control like this!
Pouting, Silica took in a deep breath and tried to calm down. She visualized herself cool and smooth like glass, her biggest passion. Put up a barrier and let it roll off your surface, don't let things get in at you. Sire's voice reminded her to keep her wits about her. He always had good advice. Good fashion advice too! After this was over, she had to remember to take him shopping for a new cravat. His current one was so last week!
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Searching the kitchen for the flag proved useless though he did snag a pear from her counter top. Lucard had a weakness for fruits and he munched on it, wiping his hands on the wall as the juices made his hands sticky. The next place to check was upstairs. Climbing upwards, he narrowly avoided a tripwire that would've sent him painfully back to the bottom, possibly even knocking him out. Swarov had a creepy way of handling violence with a giggle and a sugar smile. He'd seen her drop a dollhouse on an anthill before without even blinking as she crushed the colony. Trolls were violent yeah but the highblood privilege of entitled destruction never failed to chill his blood in fear.
Blood. He hoped she was enjoying his traps back at his place right now. By the end of the night, she'd be covered in red, dying her the color of the lowest hue so she could see how it felt. Letting out a short laugh, he pushed open a door. Spite was a welcome feeling in his life, much more comfortable than pity or affection. It was something you could do alone and he often felt that way living in this luxurious forest with neighbors that clearly disapproved of him being there. The only one who seemed to want anything to do with him really was-
No!
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Feeling steady again, the girl rose to her feet and resumed searching the kitchen. She ignored the moldy bread and greasy countertops, noting that his fridge was clean at least, as well as the sink area. She supposed she was glad to see he took pride in keeping the workspace for his passion tidy. Silica didn't understand what drew Lucard to mixology and potions but at least he was doing them right. If only he'd discover a secret desire for housework too!
'I guess it's not here.' Tapping her chin, the girl mused. Wandering out into the hall, her eyes scanned the remaining doors. Where to check next? She could search his bedroom, living room, cellar, or...
No no no- no no no no. Not checking his bathroom!
She opted for the cellar instead, figuring he'd convince himself that it was spooky. In some ways Lucard was rather traditional despite being such a weirdo. He hated the new pop culture sensations, preferring to cling to the old records of the past and yet... he hated hipsters. He was an anti-conformist to the extreme, the type who would wear a full length sleeved sweater in summer with a scarf just to be different. Yet he'd scoff at those who wore shorts in winter.
Her mind wandered as she searched the cellar, mindlessly peering at the various bottles tucked into every crevice of the room. He didn't have a big hive, nor the beetles for a great storage system. The end result was a cluttered mess of random drinks stacked in precarious piles everywhere. She admired the way the light reflected around the room off of all the glass. It was pretty in an almost eerie way, stretching around her like a ghost.
Wait, a ghost? Nervous again, Silica glanced around to check behind her. Positioned perfectly was a scrap of red fabric. Was that... ? It had to be! Yes, she'd found it!
... behind a wall of bottles. 'Shimmer!' She cursed.
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"Focus, Luke, God!" Shoving open another door rudely, he glared around at the contents of it before entering. This one looked like an extravagant bathroom with a bath full of flower petals. Something solid glinted at the bottom of the water and he leaned in to get a good look at it. Eyes peered back at him and he gasped, smashing the handle of his broom into it before crashing backwards to get away from it. It was a freaking skull! She had a glass skull hidden in there just to scare the s**t out of him! Well, now she just had a tub full of shattered glass. He hated this style of play, hiding creepy things mixed in with cute. It made it so unpredictable what was safe and what wasn't. Staggering back out of the bathroom, he tried to focus on last sweep's win. He was going to triumph over her again. There was no way he was losing ever again and getting subject to helping her with her glasswork, fingers pricked by broken glass and burned by crafts not fully cooled. It was awful!
Okay clearly he needed to be more cautious in his approach. No more charging into things blindly without sizing them up first. Looking at another door, he decided to peek through the keyhole. Some sort of light blinked back at him before suddenly there was an odd gurgling sound and a spray of bubbles farted out of the hole straight into his eyeball! Yelping in pain and falling on his butt, Lucard tried to calm his pump biscuit. Swarov had really stepped up her game this Terror Night and he was starting to panic the longer he stayed in this hive. Highbloods could afford fancy things like motion detectors and bubble machines.
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Welp, there wasn't much she could do besides just go for it. There wasn't time to carefully move each and every bottle out of the way if she wanted to beat Lucard! Perhaps if she shimmied carefully like this and stretched... Sucking in her gut, the glass sculptor trembled in anxiety as she tried not to destroy the bottle jenga structure blocking her way. Terrified of how many ways this could go wrong, Silica vowed to think of a suitable revenge later. She desperately didn't want to break any of the glass and even more so didn't want any of the liquids in the bottles to spill onto her nice grey dress. It was so pretty and clean...
She told others she liked to wear light shades like this because it was showy and pretty but the truth was she could spot dirt and mess on it quicker. Silica felt a compulsive need to be clean and couldn't stand the thought of wearing something and not realizing until the end of the night that she'd been contaminated with gross germs!
Using this against her... how wicked! Oooo, she was so mad!
Fueled by anger, Silica raised herself on her tip toes and snatched the flag. There! Now all she had to do was-
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Three doors, four plushie bombs and six streamers later, he finally found it. Tucked in her bedroom, neatly folded and tied with a shimmery bow, the flag was laid out on her recuperacoon. A dozen clear balloons filled with piles of sparkling glitter floated happily at the top of the room and he looked at them skeptically. Was this some kind of congratulations for making it to the end? It was almost sweet, he thought with a momentary grin as he crawled onto the recuperacoon to retrieve his prize. Something clicked under his palm though and Lucard froze in fear. Were the lights going to go out?! Was the floor going to vanish beneath him?! Darts wizzed in the air above him and the boy shrieked, keeping low on the recuperacoon so they wouldn't hit him.
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SPLAT, PLOP, SPLUT!
"AHHHHHHHHHH!" Her anguished scream was heard through all of northern Four Fronds that night. Sputtering in disbelief, the girl looked down at herself and began to cry. In a stroke of evil genius, Lucard had arranged a basket of tomatoes propped above his flag that would fall on her once the flag was removed. It'd been a risky gamble so he'd arranged the bottles to force her into standing in the perfect position. In her horror, she stumbled and knocked over the bottle display- coating her dress in even more colors.
Furious at the mess, Silica's face flushed an enraged purple. Shaking, she stormed up the stairs and headed straight for his bedroom. Technicolor dress meet soon-to-be technicolor sheets! Ripping his ragged blankets off his recuperacoon, she belly flopped onto his bed and rolled around. Once satisfied with the saturation, she rose and marched out the door. The waiting audience gasped at her appearance and hesitated at how to respond.
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POP POP POP POP POP! A flood of glitter washed over him as every balloon in the bunch popped and showered a cheerful rainbow of dazzling colors all over his hair and clothes. No. This was not okay. He was not okay with this. Lucard sat for a minute in complete shock before his emotions moved on to rage and finally venom. He was going to kick her a**. Swiping the flag from the recuperacoon, the child's legs ran as fast as they could down the hallway, down the stairs and back to the front door. All he had to do now was make it back to his place before she reached her own hive! Swinging the front door open, he saw-
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"I found it! Follow me!" Thrusting the flag up into the air, she shouted loudly for Sire and the crowd to join her victory lap. She hated them all seeing her covered in this red goop and rainbow skirt but she couldn't let them see that. The one thing that propelled her forward was the fact that he'd soon discover they'd basically had the same idea. Except her's would last much longer than his. Golden bricks gleamed in the moonlight soon, and she beamed at the sight of them. There was only one direct path between their hives and if she'd made it this far without running into Lucard, then that meant he was still inside. Strutting down her golden walkway, she brightened as the redblood opened the door with perfect timing. Words could not describe his expression.
"Ahhh, there's no place like home." Stepping past him, she dropped the red flag on the floor and used it as a doormat.
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She waved at him sweetly, a pristine white smile barely concealing the darkness in her foul biscuit, from the brick walkway. The usual crowd that watched their feuds chattered from behind the fence, not even being subtle about their giggling and jeering. It looked bigger than last sweep's mob.
He'd lost.
"She lives in a mansion! There's so many rooms to search, it's unfair-" Frustration and helplessness were beginning to set in and Lucard grabbed onto his lusus for comfort. Batma'am scowled at the group before plucking the boy's hat from his head and using it to conceal the tears threatening to spill. He buried his face into her fuzzy chest, listening to the sound of footsteps approaching to claim their prize...
What a witch. |
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Posted: Mon Nov 14, 2016 7:07 am
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Saylem Astrae (leon_a_darkangel) and Ashwin Pierah (Hobo Pixi)
Another Terror Night was looming just around the corner, something Saylem Astrae looked forward to every time the wonderful fright night came about. Last sweep she had managed to edge out the victory for the best hive on the block. This year was every more important for her to try and win, with the Space Ladder having fallen in Civisect, she’d been fortunate enough not to lose her hive. However, the spirit of candy and mischief for a good old fashioned Alternian Holiday was exactly what the highblood child felt every troll needed!
Dressed in her finest dress, the purpleblood gave a little twirl before a mirror she'd placed outside her hive as part of her vast decor plan. Her entire lawn ring was decorated, right down to the trees. Her winged beast hopper mom, Bianca sat up high in a tree branch, her long rabbit-like legs thumping noisily, while her wings rustled from her melancholy caws. To Saylem’s ears of course, it was not only comforting it only added to the overall experience she was trying to promote with all her time and effort put into decorating. Adjusting her witch’s hat, the small child beamed toothily up at her lusus. Her one fang poked over her lower lip with a sweet expression, as she bat her eyelashes at her lusus. “Can we PLEASE get more cob webs to put up in the frond nubs?” She implored the winged beast. “I know I won last sweep’s judging contest, but don’t forget! That grumpy lowblood won the sweep before. I won’t stand for being second best Mother!” She huffed, her cheeks dotting with her purple-hue.
A loud dramatic sigh came from Saylem as she crossed her arms over her chest, taking a step back to examine her lawn ring. Her innocent expression was hardly fitting the Queen of Scares herself, although as much as she liked to scare other trolls handing out candy to others was one of her favorite pass times. Be it thrown, or willingly handed over Saylem loved Terror Night for all its good and bad elements. Not only was the holiday grand, but the sweep long anticipation to see what other trolls came up with added to the excitement. Especially with her neighbor being in constant competition with her Saylem simply thought it was great to see other trolls get into the spirit of the season.
Caught up in her own little world, Saylem rocked on her heels wondering what else she could add to the already growing list of decorations she had piled up both inside, and outside her hive. “Ahhh I think it’s almost perfect!” She quipped with a wide happy smile.
Terror night, Ashwin's most favorite holiday! He'd won his block's hive decoration contest for a few years in a row... up until the last sweep. That stupid highblood stole his victory! Well not this year! The low blood moved about his lawnring to add his finishing touches on his hive. He had his lawnring decorated to look like a creepy graveyard maze; zombies, giant spiders and ghosts. There was no way he could lose to that sniveling girl next door! The low blood smirked as he looked his lawnring over, it was perfect. He glanced over to see his competition, biting his lower bit. It was good, really good but he'd never verbalize his discovery. He looked to the ground, he needed more.... or... she needed less... He smirked darkly as he swiftly slipped into his hive to obtain some flap beast eggs. He slip over to her hive just as she slipped away.
Ashwin looked to the egg; was this really necessary? He asked himself before he remembered how upset her was last sweep. Terror night was his favorite holiday and he always worked so hard to get his decorations. Besides, she was a high blood and probably had way more beetles than him! It was only fair that he brought her decorations down a notch! He nodded to himself before letting the eggs fly! He had surprisingly great aim considering he'd never really aimed to throw anything before. The next thing he knew... He nailed the highblood in the head with an egg. He halted, hiding the last egg behind his back as he bit his lip.
Saylem had just been about to return inside, ready to add a few more animal bones about her windows from her dinner the other day along with it's teeth when a resounding crack and gush noise startled the small troll. Shrieking in surprise, she threw her hands up in defense of herself, holding onto her hat as a strange goopey mixture splattered her hat, along with her dress sleeves. "Ewwww!!" She wailed in dismay, slapping wildly at the air in a frantic attempt to rid herself of the stuff. A childish pout lined her features as the small girl looked wide eyed as more little pop noises sounded. Mortified she watched as a lot of her decorations went flying..smashed by several well aimed tosses. The eggy texture was all over the front of her hive and lawn ring, a few gravestones had egg shells and their contents slowly sliding down the tomb.
Disbelief and shock registered on the highblood's face. Turning her head, in a slow fashion she looked around with a wide-eyed oblivious expression. Her grey eyes were round with her surprise, blinking wildly in dismay as she tried to register what exactly had just happened. Her lusus began making awful loud cawing noises, taking to the air as it flew around in circles over the lowblood that had hit not only her daughter...but the white creatures as well causing it to take flight. "Who did that??" She looked around, confused as she noticed her number one rival on the block.
Walking a little closer, she narrowed her eyes suspiciously at Ashwin. Her expression was borderline pout-like as she looked to him. "Did YOU?" She asked with doubt in her tone and expression as she peered at the other, poking at his shoulder in a demanding fashion. Raising an eyebrow the troll stared at the other waiting for him to explain himself.
Registering what he had just done, Ashwin froze for a moment. "W-Why are you accusing me!?" He shouted in retort, poking at her shoulders. "Even if I did, I think it looks better!" He yelled at her, growling almost feral like. He glanced to the side to see his bat-bear lusus shaking her head at him. Oh man was this a bad idea! He pushed the girl away from him and backed up some. "What's your problem!?" He growled again, not really explaining himself at all.
Saylem looked absolutely dumb struck by him. Blinking rapidly at the other she stared at the other for a long while. "Ohhh...you think it looks better? Maybe I'll have to slime it up." She said suddenly looking on the bright side of the situation. "I dunno..our hives are looking pretty spooky." Saylem smiled then letting him off the hook as she smiled with her toothy little grin.
"But..I think I'm going to win over you anyway Mr.Grumpy pants." She giggled then at him as she gave a little curtsy. "I even got a new dress! It's it pretty?" She asked the bat-symbol troll as she peered at him with childlike fascination..and hope.
Hearing the purpleblood fall for his diversions, he smirked. All was going well and he was about to leave until Saylem said she'd beat him. "There is no way a wiggler like you will win!" He growled, throwing hi last egg at her dress without even really meaning to.. it just sorta happened. His eyes went wide for only a second before puffing out his chest. "Ha! T-Take that!" He yelled at her. "You won't ever beat me again!" He challenged.
Looking to him with a rather sour look, Saylem poked out her bottom at the other as she was called a wiggler of all things. Batting her eyelashes in a sweet innocent fashion the purpleblood looked at him with her saccharine sweet expression. That was when he pulled out one last egg. Disbelief showed on the girls face...but he'd said he hadn't done it! Her jaw even dropped open slightly looking at him and the egg...before it wiped forward at her, with a resounding splat as the egg cracked and exploded all over her new dress.
The highblood looked absolutely floored, the words taken right out of her mouth as she watched the egg fall to the ground. His words grated on her nerves. She felt her eye twitch as she puffed up her cheeks, turning purple from embarrassment. "OH YEAH?!" She roared at him, pointing an accusing finger as she stomped one of her feet at the other troll. "Well you know WHAT?! I think the winner of this year’s Terror Night should take the loser as their servant for the rest of all their natural sweeps!" She blurted out, challenging him right back as she growled at him narrowing her eyes.
"What say you!" Saylem demanded as she crossed her arms over her chest, nostrils flaring as she huffed at him.
Ashwin growled, "I'd never lose again to a egg covered wiggler like you!!! You're on!" He screamed at her in the moment before stomping off to his hive. He was greeted by his lusus, who looked rather annoyed. "What?! You too?" Ashwin growled before his mother batted lightly at his face. "I didn't really mean to throw the last egg..." he admitted to her as he rubbed his neck. It was then the whole wager sank in. His eyes widened, "oh no.... " he said out loud. It would be wrong if the higher blood was his servant!!! He was a low blood! Low bloods do what high bloods want, not the other way around. Oh crap... What have I done!? He thought. He could be killed for having her as a servant!
Ashwin looked through his window to Saylem's lawnring. There was no way she'd win with all the eggs... not to mention... her lawnring was filled with cute spooky things... it wasn't really scary at all. He was screwed, so screwed... With a frown, he quickly moved to knock over some of his on decorations... basically ruining his chances of winning... the judges would be there soon. He didn't even stop to think of the consequences of losing, fear of being killed by other higher bloods was on his mind.
Saylem puffed out her purple tinted cheek more as the other troll agreed to her terms and stormed off, sticking her tongue at him. She then marched off into her hive, looking to her lusus. "I can't believe he hit me with an egg." She told her mom, getting a rag and trying to clean off her new dress. Her eyes welled with tears as she thought of the grumpy wiggler next door. Wiping her eyes, she smiled to Bianca. "I'm still going to win!" She told her, nodding at her cawing. "The judges will be here soon... I should clean up the eggs." She said as she cleaned the egg off her hat.
With a container in hand, Saylem made her way to all her decorations that had the nasty eggs on it. She began wiping the egg off and throwing away the shells. She looked up, wiping her brow as she saw the judges arrive to her give first. She hid the bucket behind her back. "O-oh! Hello." She greeted, stepping back to let them look over her lawnring.
Ashwin looked at his now pathetic looking lawnring. His pumpbiscuit ached as he finished destroying all his hard work. He moved to sit on his porch steps, watching the judges investigate his neighbor’s lawnring. He hopped up as they moved to his hive. He stepped back so they could judge his lawnring, the feeling in his pumpbiscuit tightening from stress and a bit of heart break.
Once the judges were finished looking the two hives over, they stood between the hives and quietly discussed who would be the winner.
Saylem looked to Ashwin, already forgiving him from early. She was far more focused on the judging for now. The high blood moved to the judges once called over. "Really!? I won!?" She exclaimed, hopping up and down. "I knew I'd win!!" She beamed a smile, oblivious and pleasantly unaware of Ashwin's sacrifice to ensure her victory. Moving to grab her lusus with much excitement, she swung her around. "We won!! We won!!"
Seeing Saylem get called over and announced as the winner, brought back memories of last sweep when he lost to her. He did this to himself.. he should have never stooped so low as to cheat to win and now look at him., he lost again. His face paled as he remembered the wager and its entirety. He... had to server her now! He looked to Saylem as she approached his hive, puffing his chest out to try and look more intimidating.
Saylem smiled to Ashwin, "I won. You know our wager! Start cleaning up all the eggs you so rudely threw at my hive." She ordered sweetly as she made her way back to her hive. She grabbed her bowl of candy to give out to any trolls that came by as she watched Ashwin clean up get lawnring.
Ashwin grumbled, following her to her hive. Her picked up her bucket and began resuming what Saylem started before the judges arrived. All he could think about is how stupid he was... how from now on, he needed to think about what he was doing before he does it! |
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Posted: Mon Nov 14, 2016 7:31 am
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Galine: blackbird cake
Winfri: Green Minuet
Bright lights flickered on, shining down on a large stage. A shrill voice cut through.
"This is it! This is my time to shiiiiine~! No longer will I lose what is rightfully MIIIIIINE~" The owner, a child in a frilly, sparkly dress, stood wide and true in the middle spotlight, belting out notes unable to be processed by troll spongeclots. During the final moment of her note, the purpleblood reached up to the spotlight dramatically for the climax of her performance.
"C'mon, c'moooon! Just... one... tear...!" She whispered under her breathe, reaching farther up to the light. An excited gasp sounded at the slight feeling of what could be a tear, with the tips of her fingers dabbed at the corners of her eyes in desperation. Nope. Bone-dry as Chitten.
Immediately, she collapsed, remaining in a slumped position for a long moment. Then she straightened just as quick. Pushing a knuckle to her chin and a hand on her waist, she stared off with a look of utter disappointment. "Drat! I thought I had it that time..."
The applause of a single pair of large white hands echoed in the room. She gasped.
"Why, thank you, Daddy!" Galine chirped, cupping her hands in front of a shining beam. As she turned away in a dramatic twirl, the large ape lusus pulled two huge cotton balls from his ears. The lights returned to an average state. "I do really feel very optimistic about this sweep's Terror Night Screenwrite Competition!" She expressed loudly, gazing up at the spinning stage lights. "I mean- I've won every other competition within the city. Although, I very nearly lost to that blueblood who wrote that piece for the Twelve Perigee's Eve competition. Gog, when that magical juggalo snowtroll melted in front of the kids. So tragic..." A pause. "I think my writing has improved quite a bit! And this year- Odette Cygnet will be a judge! I'll finally get to hate her in person! It'll be so delightful! Whoa- dizzy." Galine stumbled to a stop. For a moment, she appeared buoyant and peppy, like her usual self. But soon her expression turned sour and her body tense. Gorilladaddy returned the cotton balls from where they came.
"But... every sweep... every. Stinkin'. Sweep. That redblood shows up to flabbergast the judges, just to show me up on the one night I love the most!" Truth be told, it was the one night in the sweep where Galine could dress up in whatever costume she wanted without receiving judging looks, especially ones from her class. The genre of horror, terror, fear. It completely escaped her. Everything Galine wrote, she wrote with fervor, purpose, and perhaps a small pinch of glitter. However, very little of the Terror Night appealed to her preferred writing tastes, but that didn't stop her from trying.
"I cannot let Winfri get away with another win this year! I'm gunna snatch that "Win" from her name! Then she'll just be... "Fri"... Free from the heavy burden of that trophy!" Placing her hands on her hips, the girl looked entirely pleased with herself.
"But if she does win again, I just- I- I don't think I could stand it!" Forcing a faux wail of anguish, Galine dragged her hands down her face. "I don't even know what I'm going to write! My thinkpan feels as if it has shriveled up, absent of all traces of creativity. And Winfri is to blame! Rainbowdrinker of art! What a terrible foe, indeed!" Her pusher beat quicker with rage the more she thought of that redblood. The purple on her cheeks deepened, growing hotter by the moment. Taking in a sharp breath, Galine's frown deepened. So many sweeps of getting her rumpus handed to her by a lowblood, so many times she had to suppress those dark feelings of rivalry. Though- wasn't that what it was? Before she could process the feeling, Galine had to reassure herself in the only way possible.
"Oh my! Goodness! Don't be jealous, my dreadful Odette! The only redblood who could ever be in the deepest, darkest depths of my pump biscuit is you~" She exclaimed, prancing across stage to lean against a large poster of Odette Cygnet and slap a hand over the adult redblood's face. No one could compare.
Tapping her lip in thought, she paced the length of her stage. "How does she do it, though? What are her secrets?!" A snap of a finger. "Ya know- I bet she signed some contract with a heinous, unnatural force. She coops herself up in that creepy old hive all night doing gog knows what, wouldn't bat an eye if that were the case." Of course, now she was just letting her imagination roam. Though- the notion did spark inspiration. Her face lit up, thinkpan engulfed in a plethora of ideas.
"Daddy! DADDY! I know what I'm going to write!" In a swift motion, the purpleblood ran behind the stage curtains for a much needed costume change. Her fluffy dressed had been replaced by a classy pant and vest, fedora and tie glittering in her blood hue. On her face were large thick-rimmed glasses. She scampered off to her writer's desk, where a purple typewriter awaited.
"Ohohoho~! Eheeheehee~! Ah-hahaha~!" Cracking her tiny knuckles, she wiggled in her seat. With a huge intake of breath, she leaned forward and pressed her fingertips to the keys.
- - -
Winfri could not be any more oblivious to Galine's existence or the feud that she apparently shared with her.
In a basement with the all the aesthetic of a gothic laboratory, Winfri sat at her desk, surrounded by books, and writing away. Not on the annual Terror Night Screenwrite however—no, this sweep she had abandoned such worldly frivolities to pursue her true passion: spellcraft. Of the books on her desk, several were open to pages offering depictions of vicious rituals, terrifying supernatural entities, and other scenes of abject horror. These were her source material, her inspiration; the power behind the imagination to win the previous sweeps' Screenwrites. Less came from her imagination though, and more from literal text. Still they had never failed her before, and she knew that they would not fail her now. Authenticity was imperative after all. It was why she went to all the trouble of writing under candlelight with a quill.
An hour passed. A longcase clock that had been ticking quietly in the background, let out a flat gong. Winfri kept writing. The candle on her desk flickered and dwindled, as it approached the end of its lifespan. Winfri leaned closer and closer to her notebook, pen still scratching furiously. Another thirty minutes passed. At last she leaned so close that her sniffnode nearly brushed the paper. She drew back with a start.
“Trevor!” she barked. A toad hopped down from the shelves over her desk, landing with a meaty splat on the floor. Giving his feathers a shake, he began to drag himself towards his charge. Winfri stared down at him, her face fixed in a fearsome glare.
“What have you been doing?” She asked, tone biting. Her eyes travelled to the shelf where he had perched. One of the bottles lay on its side, and was half-empty. She glared back down at the toad. “I see you've eaten your way through my newt tails, she remarked, her voice clipped. Trevor seemed to sink into the floor. His body flattened as he transformed into a puddle.
“I’m almost out of candlelight. Bring me another from upstairs. And another inkwell while you’re at it,” Winfri continued.
The toad croaked gloomily, and began his slow lope towards the stairs. Winfri watched him with cold, bitter eyes. At last she thrust her arm towards him, fingers stiff with restrained energy. Her gaze intensified, as she imagined enthralling the lusus.
“Quickly now. We only have a couple of nights before the eclipse on Terror Night,” The redblood commanded. Her voice rose, impassioned. “Every second is pivotal to our success! Go!”
- - -
The event felt like a blur. While she got to meet Odette Cygnet from afar, Galine slowly came to the realization that the troll she actually longed to see, had not showed up. As the trophy for first place had been awarded to her, with a few congratulatory words, all of it was tuned out. She cast down a gloomy frown. In her mind, the award meant nothing but a weight in her hands. What point of winning first place if it had not been against her rival? The one troll who could best her on this night, who provided her with reason to better herself. Truthfully, she felt proud of her entry, believing it to be good enough even to out-scare her only worthy opponent. But now...
Galine responded to the absence of her rival with her victory in the only appropriate way: complete and utter disappointment. How could she do this to her? Tonight was the night, a night she looked forward to for so many weeks and she had been, quite frankly, let down. Abandoned.
So the only thing to do at this point was pack up the trophy and hunt down the source of her Terror Night woes. Thankfully, Winfri lived only a block away, and using her lusus as transportation, it did not take her long to arrive at the redblood's hive. After a quick, chipper knock on the door, Galine wore a wide toothed smile with the trophy in her hands. She clicked her heels together in anticipation.
- - -
Once again in the basement, Winfri stood ready to perform her spell. Black and sangria curtains adorned the walls, and a chalk-drawn pentagram marked the centre of the floor. Black candles in cast iron candelabra stood in every corner. Winfri of course dressed up in her finest for this momentous occasion, donning her blackest robe and her pointiest hat. Even Trevor looked slightly less disgusting than usual. There was something magical in the air—she could feel it. All the signs had proven real, and all her dreams would come to pass. She was ready to begin the summoning.
At the edge of the pentagram, arms stretched wide, Winfri opened her mouth to begin the incantation when what did she hear but the sound of a distant knock at her door? She froze, for a brief moment entertaining the idea that her mere intent had brought a visitor into her realm. But magic was never that easy. Baffled, she cast her gaze onto Trevor, who stood similarly paralysed, eyes wider than ever. Winfri licked her lips. “Get the door,” she rasped. Trevor hesitated, body trembling. “Now.”
There was a warning in her voice that suggested he not encourage her to ask a third time. He hopped over the stairs as fast as his fat legs would let him and then proceeded to crawl up them, one step at a time. Winfri watched without mercy or pity.
After a painful minute and a half of toad chin-ups, Trevor at last reached the front door. He took a moment to rest, his sides heaving. No one was so important that they could not wait—besides, he was a little afraid of what lie on the other side. He had only paused for maybe five seconds before an irate voice from below reminded him to hurry. “What's taking so long?” Winfri called. “Who's there?” With a desperate, self-pitying croak, Trevor extended his tongue and pulled open the door.
- - -
After a long moment, Galine exchanged looks with Gorilladaddy. Trying to hide the concern and slight chagrin, she vaguely wondered if Winfri wasn't home. Unlikely. "Hmm...!" As she moved to give the door a little more than a knock and more of a bang, it suddenly opened. Fist mid-air, the purpleblood blinked at the absence of an redblood behind it. Her eyes trailed downwards. Aha!
"Oh, why, hellooooo~! And who might you be? Is Winfri home?" Cutting to the chase, Galine smiled wider and lowered her arm.
- - -
The toad's eyes swivelled from side to side, emulating an expression that could only be described as uneasy. He seemed to be searching for words. Before he could respond though, Winfri answered for him. There was the sound of her boots on the stairs as she ascended. Then the brim of her hat appeared at the top of the stairwell, followed by the rest of her. Going to the door, she glared at her uninvited guest.
“Galine,” she said, as though the name actually put a sour taste in her mouth. Her perky, pesky, purpleblooded neighbour. “What?”
- - -
Her biscuit raced as a familiar voice called from somewhere in the hive, though the tone felt rather unwelcoming. Galine took a slight step back, and her lusus defensively brought an arm around her. "Wh-What do you mean, 'What'? You were supposed to be at the competition tonight!" The purpleblood gestured to the trophy.
- - -
Winfri had no idea what competition the purpleblood was talking about. Her already thin patience continued to wane, as she thought about her spell waiting downstairs. “What competition? I don't...” Her voice trailed off as her eyes fell on the trophy the girl presented. The cogs in her thinkpan began to turn, and comprehension dawned on her. “Oh. The screenwriting festival. Thanks, but I decided not to enter this sweep. Bye.” Eager to have Galine gone, Winfri grabbed the door handle, and moved to shut it on the purpleblood's face.
- - -
"Hey, wait a second!" Pushing past her lusus, she put her foot and the trophy in the door. "Why? Why not? You win every sweep! Does it not matter to you anymore? Panic swept the purpleblood under her feet.
- - -
Winfri let out a long, exasperated sigh. “Not really,” she said with a shrug. “I only did it as a hobby. Anyway, that was just a stepping stone. I have more important things to do now.” Like that summoning waiting for her downstairs. Winfri narrowed her eyes and put on her meanest scowl. “Things that you are keeping me from. So go enjoy your trophy somewhere else. I'm busy.”
- - -
"A... a hobby?" Was all Galine could say. She stared at the redblood as she continued speaking, but the anger began to rise despite herself. "More important things". She tried not to feel hurt.
"I can't enjoy this trophy anywhere!" Galine exclaimed, holding the object high. "Its not worth anything if I didn't even win it properly!"
- - -
Winfri could not help but roll her eyes at the unfolding tantrum. The story coming out of Galine's mouth was unbelievable. Clearly she cared about the competition. Clearly she cared about the trophy. Yet somehow she found it within her rights to pitch a fit about it. Highbloods.
It's not worth anything in the first place,” Winfri retorted. Beside her, Trevor flattened himself into the floor, wishing for all the world he could turn invisible.
- - -
"Ah! Well!" The purpleblood stammered, unable to respond. Then with as much strength as she could muster, she threw the trophy at the feet of the other troll. "FINE! You deserve it then! A worthless trophy for an worthless opponent!" Even as she spoke the words, she felt another stab of pain, and an itch around her eyes. Wouldn't that be something, if she could finally squeak out a few tears? That might move the redblood's pump biscuit, provided she had one. But like usual no tears came. Just her rotten luck.
Chest heaving with dehydrated sobs, Galine felt the touch of her lusus' palm on her shoulder. Securing her hand around his pinky, she allowed the ape to guide her away from the other girl and away from disappointment. A part of her longed to look back, to see if she had done any damage, but she would not giver Winfri the satisfaction. She had already given her her winnings; there was no need to give her anything else. |
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Posted: Mon Nov 14, 2016 8:38 am
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Writing for the purpleblood solo
"Tip toe, tip toe, just so." A girl in a pointy hat whispered to herself, then moved her fingers in an elaborate way, grinning to herself. She peeked around the corner of her hive, and snickered as she spotted a large fat cat-beast snoozing in the lawn ring. Carefully, oh so carefully, the purple blooded troll tiptoed over to the sleeping white beast. She positioned herself beside the animals head, a little grin playing on her face. She took out a small bag, grabbed a pinch of what was inside, and sprinkled it upon the white beast. "Dear sweet dad, let your sweetness show, let's have candy for dinner! and for dessert? Cookie dough." The little girl sent one more pinch of what was in her bag into the air, and sneaked back to the hive. The white cat, the girl's lusus, opened one eye, watching the girl sneak back inside. A few minutes latter the troll opened the second story window facing the lawn ring, and yelled. "Dad!!" The lusus pretended to jerk awake. "Im hungry Dad!! What's for dinner?" The cat stretched, taking its time, then meowed back "How about some candy Steria..." The girl instantly hid her mouth, trying not to show her pleasure. "And, if you clean up, cookie dough for dessert, okay?". Steria could not help it, and a squeal escaped the small child, her hands in the air in victory. Another day, another spell perfectly executed.
A snarky Ha! sounded from the sidewalk, and the Purpleblood looked over and frowned. It was her neighbor, an evil witch, the exact opposite of Steria the good witch. "You really think that was a spell?" The red blood rival spat.
The Purpleblood ran downstairs and glared at the lowblood, keeping inside her protective lawn-ring. "What do you want?!"
The redblood scoffed again. "This is what real magic looks like, so watch carefully." The lowblood pulled off her big black pointed hat, showed that there was nothing inside, and then covered the hole with a cloth. "Watch carefully, okay? Tho I seriously doubt you will be able to even fallow this." The redblood looked down her nose at the high blooded troll, and waved her hand over the hat. She pulled the cloth away, revealing a common chickadee, that then went flying off. Hands on her hips, the redblood gave her neighbor a smug look.
"What?!" Steria exclaimed in outrage. "That wasn't magic! That was some stupid trick! I bet you had that bird hidden somewhere!"
The redblood rolled her eyes and shook her head, snorting at the ridiculous accusations. This made the Purpleblood grit her teeth, and she looked around. Steria spotted a lowblood walking along, and marched over to them, giving the redblood witch a glare as she did. "You are great, not as great as me, with this spell, you shall bow on one knee!" The Purpleblood spun around in a circle, repeated the spell, and then pointed at her target. The random bypasser gave the Purpleblood a confused look, then their eyes widened as they took in the purple witch's blood color. Hesitantly, the other troll got down on one knee, and bowed their head. With that the highblood turned back to her redblooded rival, a grin of triumph on her face.
The other witch glared, "You know that's not magic, right?" The redblood spat, anger apparent on her face. "Thats just you bullying others, and there is nothing magical about a bully. Haven't you wondered why none of your stupid rhymes work on me?" The redblood was red in the face, and determinedly stood her ground.
Steria quivered. "I am NOT a bully." Steria said, anger apparent in her voice. "They comply becaouse of my magic." Steria crossed her arms over her chest defensively. "Obviously you are using your spells you.. you stupid aberrant thing!" Steria was also getting purple in the face, she hated this girl! This girl was just here to be a thorn in her side. Steria got her anger under control and continued. "But don't you worry! Ill become a more powerful witch, and just you wait ill make you submit to my magic." Tears were forming in the girl's eyes, and she stared the redblood down. The staring match went on for what felt like hours, until the redblood finally turned away, muttering "waste of time" or some such nonsense. Steria stood there, breathing heavily, calming herself down. She turned to her cat Lusus, trying to cheer up. "Candy for dinner, right?" The cat purred a laugh, nodded, and trotted inside after the young troll.
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Posted: Mon Nov 14, 2016 8:57 am
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Elphae LeFaye - quite uneventful
When it came to events, Elphae was so used to winning.
Best dressed, best decorations, best spirit! Her blood color made it so-- Life felt boring, predictable even, having everything fall into her open mouth. The world had been given to her on a silver platter. She knew she deserved it, of course, her lusus had made sure of that, but she lived being appeased, placated, served. Asking for something meant it happened, and when it didn’t she had the right to stomp them down, crush them beneath her tiny yellow shoes. But-- Wasn’t that the point of life? Wasn’t life meant to challenge you, to push you to your limits and then some? Of course, she had no limits, so she didn’t count, but.
She found it so easy to survive. She thought it’d be harder.
It was only after the earthquake, sweeps ago, that things changed. Everything and everyone she’d known were affected, but she didn’t mind. She could just get new things, new friends. More attention! It came from everywhere, after all.
So she’d moved. She’d moved, and she’d met her.
One Terror Night, they’d worn the same outfit. She’d gone and stepped out of her hive, only to find the troll from across the way wore the exact same thing. She’d never noticed her before, never had to, never wanted to. Tired, tattered, blunt. Stubborn. She could sense the dislike and general unpleasantry the minute they locked eyes for the first time. She never spoke or regarded the purpleblood as anything more than a nuisance. But that was what made Elphae’s interest grow in the first place. Her other neighbors sucked up to her, wanted to be her friends because of the color in her veins, the beetles she had, the smile on her face. Many of her caliber found it strange to socialize with those below them, but she honestly didn’t see the difference-- They were just like her, with hands and feet and horns and emotions. Things they all had. Things they all needed.
But they said no. And her lusus said no.
So she didn’t. It was easier. Things stayed the same.
Only they didn’t. One sweep passed, and their lawnrings looked so similar. Every time she would add something or switch something up, she’d see something new on the redblood’s side. It’d become something to look forward to every Terror Night, with most trolls supporting her(of course), but one glance at the redblood’s side showed she was equally good, maybe even better. It irritated Elphae. They’d never actually spoken, but it was obvious the trolls around her pitted the two as light and dark; good and bad. She’d invested herself in it, but the redblood kept trying, kept going against their protests-- against her as if she could actually win. She was resolute in her ways, and Elphae wasn’t one to disappoint. She accepted the challenge head on, hungry for something real and raw, not orchestrated by her so called friends. It gave her something to do, something that wasn’t pretending, something that didn’t involve the fakeness she was so used to performing.
Something fun.
There were some moments, moments she’d peek out of her window and see the redblood looking at her garden and smile. Those smiles made her pump biscuit squeeze, and she knew that deep in her, she wished to meet her and get to know her. To become her friend. She felt that maybe, since she was a redblood, she didn’t need to put up a front, didn’t need to pretend to be anything for her.
But at this point in their feud, that didn’t seem likely.
It was time. Having several drones and haul a large carton full of glittery, spooky supplies she’d planned for that very night, the kid grabbed her wand and hopped outside with her lusus, a spring in her step as her hips swayed from side to side to her own personal rhythm before stopping abruptly(and almost tripping the drones behind her) before gasping and facing her lawnring with an inspired squeal. She twirled the rod in her hand before pointing it to the skies, grinning excitedly, feeling her tiny body almost vibrate from enthusiasm. She lowered it slowly as her lusus rolled its eye, pointing at the lined up drones before sending them all to work on specific parts, eyes bright and wide and eager to work. Too many tapestries to fix, decorations to adjust, sparkles to throw!
Her wrist flicked as she sent each drone to their parts, gaining some onlookers-- Some of the neighbors she was so used to seeing. Elphae smiled and gave an over exaggerated curtsy before her gaze flew back to the lawnring as it came to life before her eyes, exclaiming excited orders-- She’d win this year again, she knew it. All it took was the finishing touch-- Plugging in all the lights. She did the honors every sweep, and this night was no different. Glancing over to the redblood’s lawnring, the kid felt her pump biscuit sink in an instant-- When had she gotten so much done? It looked so scary. It looked so creepy. It looked so… So... Good. She needed to use her finishing touch now, before the crowd decided to leave her side. Elphae burst into a run, ever silent lusus trailing behind her, disappearing behind the massive doors of her hive and jumping into the electricity room. With a glance outside the room, she hadn’t realized She quickly plugged in one, two, three-- She lost count, simply focusing on plugging, her shoulders tense, body stiff.
It was only the smell of smoke that pulled her from her stupor.
Her lusus’s opened, a large exclamation mark on the page as Elphae’s head snapped up, curls bouncing into her face from the movement-- Was that her lawnring? Oh gog, it was, wasn’t it? It had to be! Releasing a loud and long scream as her mind searched for something, anything wrong that could’ve happened with her creation, the kid flailed her way downstairs-- Only to trip on her carpet and roll down the stairs in a flurry of movement. The large lusus broke her fall, catching her in their pages before she landed to the ground, depositing the shaken, distressed purpleblood outside with an unceremonious thwump.
Everything was fine. Elphae released a loud, audible sigh as she struggled to her feet. She could still smell the smoke, could still hear the crackle of the fire-- But from where?! She eyed her area, eyes scanning the garden before she realized it wasn’t coming from her side. It was coming from the redblood’s side. Elphae gasped, watching the fire lick and curl around the others hive, jaw dropping from shock. What… What was happening? Did she burn her hive on purpose to get the crowd to notice her?! A tight anger knit its way into her thoughts, eyeing the entire burning hive with pursed, disapproving lips.
It was only after she realized that the redblood wasn’t currently in her face and flaunting that she even considered it to be unintentional. Watching a black figure fall out of the hive with a hard thump, Elphae gasped and stared at the burning hive-- Was… Was that… Because of me? Her gaze fell back on the troll, locking eyes once more with her as the wand fell out of her hand in shock. She looked at her neighbors, gaping at the fire and wondered-- Did one of them set it on fire? Had they done it because they knew she was better? Did they do it so she could win?! Elphae stepped back, eyes bubbling with purple tears, expression contorted with shock and fear. She looked back at the redblood’s searing, angry, betrayed eyes before clenching her teeth, a profound anger building up in her.
They knew she was inferior.
They knew she wasn’t as good. They knew the redblood was better. So they did something about it, they did something so she’d win again. She would appreciate their tenacity to destroy for her, but the kid felt no gratitude. Instead, she felt a tear jerking ball of shame slam into her, legs falling out from under her, body shaking from anger, cheeks flushing from shame. She didn’t want this. She didn’t want any of this.
She lost tonight. It was indirectly said, but she knew she lost because it hadn’t been fair. Her pawns, they had a mind of their own, and she couldn’t control their anger, their bloodist emotions fueling their actions. They only saw things the way society built it-- Elphae was good, Gildan was bad. None of them even moved to help her. Not even she did. Helping her would be renouncing her win, no matter how unfair it was. Helping her would put her below the trolls that helped her get to where she was. It’d be betraying her lusus and the life she grew up with.
So she didn’t.
But next sweep, there’d be another Terror Night. Gildan would find a large bag of beetles on her withered hive the next night from an anonymous sender, just enough to refurbish and fix her hive. It held enough for good food, and then some. It held enough for her to build herself up again, make herself a challenge.
And Elphae loved a challenge.
Gildan Saddam - ImaginationsParadise
First of all, it was 10th Pedigree and Gildan Saddam was sitting criss-crossed in her living block plotting-- ever plotting. ‘Twas Terror Night after all and she needed to act fast. The rustblood couldn’t help but smirk as she thought of a way to terrorize her neighbors this sweep-- Specially that prissy, annoying purpleblood that moved to her neighborhood a few sweeps back.
It was obvious that the other girl was out for her title, or at least, she was out to stop her from doing her thing-- scaring young trolls. The child knew that being a lowblood meant having many complications in life. Her mother told her that, and she thought the only way to survive was to keep others away with fear. Provoke it, ignite it, and reproduce it as much as possible. This holiday kept others further away from her, and, since no hard feelings were kept in their thinkpans, she didn’t have to worry about others taking revenge. Plus, it kept them away all year long! Perhaps it was because of the rumors they started; she didn’t know, nor did she care much. However, she did care about one thing and couldn’t help but think about her.
Elphae LeFay, the most annoying and bothersome being in all Alternia. It was bad enough she had to deal with her the first time they competed but making this an annual thing… What exactly was this girl’s aim? Normally she’d be more feisty if they didn’t have more than enough meddlers watching them go all out. Really, she didn’t need nor want the attention. The child wrinkled her nose at the thought of the girl and tried her best to concentrate on her plans. One bad night. It took one bad night for Gil to go out and buy something nice for herself. It took one night for her to lock eyes with that insufferable brat. It took a few seconds for her to realize the “cullable offense” and less than a minute to despise that highblood-- which just happened to live just across from her.
First their outfits, then their lawns… It didn’t take long for Gil’s competitive nature get the best of her whenever the purplebood came to mind. Only thing she knew about her was how “good” and “highblooded” she was, which made her generalize her opinion on Elphae. Every Terror’s Eve, they’d wear themselves out, fixing their own yards to make them look scary awesome and getting sugary treats.
Which reminded her… the child sneezed, and got on her feet. She should consider talking to that giant fungus in her basement, which she gladly called mother, to try and smell a bit better. After all-- The lusii did affect her sinuses. Towards the window she went, not exactly to get a breath of fresh air but to peek through her tattered curtains to spy at her competition. She did this every now and then, watched her every move so she wouldn’t catch her by surprise. Gildan really needed to beat her this sweep, she had to, for her pride and to prove certain bloodhues didn’t made anyone more special at all. Outside, full moons hung in the sky, shining like icy suns, and giving her an ominous, haunting feeling. A sigh escaped her lips as she watched trolls pass by, yet Elphae was nowhere to be seen. Where is she? The child thought.
Gil stared at the other’s lawnring for more than a few seconds, holding the curtains firmly as that meddlesome purpleblood never cared to show up. That a*****e better be planning something worth fighting against, if not this victory would be so BORING. Slowly her gaze went to her own lawn, which was still not ready for the festivities. At least the decorative stones gave it an uplifting Terror’s Night mood. Maybe haze would do the trick? She sighed and bitterly put her fist under her chin. It was just not good enough! Maybe her lusus could help? After all she did enjoy getting sugary treats from this competition of theirs. White mold on the wall moved slowly towards her as her lusus saw her staring out the window for the fifth time tonight. It wasn’t easy for the fungi lusii to watch her child act in such way, nor easy to pull her away from the gogdamned window since it required too many cellular processes for the mycelium. So instead she watched her watch her neighbor silently until she absolutely needed to pull Gildan away.
Finally, the mute redblood decided to start working for once and turned back just to contemplate her block: the unkempt and secondhand items scattered around, the decorative stones on the table… Maybe she could use those! She had more things upstairs that she could use as well! Her pets could add some flair to her lawnring, as well as the fake blood, her cut-out figures to make ominous shadows, and finally her prized possession-- a beautiful remote control hand she’s been hoarding ever since someone dumped it on her doorstep. Yes, with a different arrangement for last sweep’s and a well-thought out plan, she could win this.
I still have a chance. I can do this! She smiled, visualizing her ideas and once she had a clear vision, she raced upstairs to get everything she needed for tonight. The red blood had plenty of things to move outside and absolutely no time at all. She put in a lot of effort arranging every prop and once she rushed inside to fetch some more decorations for the final touches, something happened.
Gildan felt as if her respiteblock slowly got warmer, specially near the door. With the last box of items in hand, she approached the door and, the moment she swung it open, she was blown back, and knocked to the floor. The searing heat and black smoke overtook her-- burning her skin and making breathing extremely difficult. She heard nothing but the deafening roar of fire burning everything she owned, inside and probably outside.
Oh no!
Quickly, Gil dragged her body out of the block and downstairs, just to see the flames consuming her home. s**t, s**t, s**t! Her mom, why wasn’t she doing anything about this?!
Deep beneath her hive resided her lusii, she was slowly feeding on organic material she’d collected last week. Yet something in the decomposed food she was eating made her feel sick. She wasn't aware of the inorganic material in the sludge, a shoe to be precise. It contained antifungal powder inside and that's when she forced her cells to get that toxic substance out. She screeched, her many tissues ripped away from the hive’s structure. The mold inside the hive however didn't have the ability to attack the virus, thus little pieces of the lusii sprung aflame-- as the brain did not require such useless tissues. Gildan wasn't aware her mother provoked the fire itself. Instead she could only worry about her well being. She coughed as she accidentally inhaled the toxic gases and rushed back up, hoping to find another way out. The window, she could get out safely from there!! Without hesitation, the child opened the window, looked down and hoped she’d survive the fall. One deep breath and she jumped, hitting her head with a spare rock in the process.
The child slowly got up a few minutes after, feeling pain all over her body. Did she collide with the ground that hard? Hopefully she didn’t break anything... Gildan limped her way to her lawn, just to see the flames consume it. Jaw dropped and eyes widened, she couldn’t believe it. All the hard work, all her possessions, her hive… It was burning in front of her and she couldn’t do a thing about it. Quickly she looked around, to see if anyone could help. Instead the meddlers watched as they probably waited for the firedrones to arrive. That instance, when she looked at their faces in hopes to find a willing troll who’d help her, she locked gaze with her. Her lawn had been decorated to a highblood’s standard, it was impeccable, while hers…
Gildan broke her gaze away and looked back with teary eyes. She’d lost… She lost miserably. Again, she looked back at the purpleblood with a mix of anger and depression.
It was you… wasn’t it? Gildan clenched her jaw, wanting to cry. You ******** cheater… The child wiped away her tears as her body trembled slightly. This wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair how that cheater could casually tear her piece of work to shreds while others would get the chance to admire hers. It just wasn’t fair! Gildan swore she’d have her revenge, she was going to pay.
No one could mess with her and her pride and get away with it.
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amicableAggressor rolled 1 4-sided dice:
1
Total: 1 (1-4)
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