childrenofbahamutlogs | EVENT #1: FAE FESTIVITIES

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EVENT #1: FAE FESTIVITIES

INTO THE WOODS

Click Clock Wood (Spring) by Grant Kirkhope

2:05 / 4:59

▶︎

Click here to listen.

Grant Kirkhope is a Scottish composer and voice actor for video games and film. Some of his notable works include GoldenEye 007, Banjo-Kazooie, Donkey Kong 64, and Perfect Dark, among many others.

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After making your way through the tiny farming town of Ich and out towards the rim of a massive raised crater, you will find yourself being led through a narrow split in the canyon wall. Inside, glow worms cling to the ceiling and create the illusion of a thousand twinkling stars above the moistened rocks.

When you finally emerge, it is into an impossibly lush landscape of massive, redwood-sized tangling trees and a soft moss carpet. Life abounds here. It feels like an oasis of birdsong and animal activity.

A short walk leads you to the prepared party-grounds. A large clearing with quaint huts all around decorated with strange flowers for partygoers to rest or otherwise entertain themselves.

There appear to be several games and stalls set up, the sweet and savory scents of delicious food fills the air, and so do the patrons of the forest. Seemingly hundreds of Fae folk zip around and greet the newcomers excitedly by placing garlands of vines and crowns of flowers atop their heads.

Glowing flowers and toadstools light your way here. It also seems that even the animals get in on the festivities! Really, just about everything talks here. Almost everything, anyways! Talking to a tree stump might not yield many results but you're welcome to try.

Each entrant is also provided upon arrival a copy of The Rules. A rolled parchment that resists water or any other damage. It also prevents you from writing on it so you can't just do what you want.

The rules read as follows:

DO:

ONLY

DO NOT:

TRADE

OTHER ITEMS TO NOTE:

old woman

GAMES & ENTERTAINMENT

Amongst the games and attractions are a variety of fun possibilities!

GAMES

Battleship! (Fae Style!)

a cup of nectar that refills endlessly, and numbs any pains you may have.

curse

dissipate after a time

Dress Up Darlings!

how

Bobbing For Onions!

Bag of Onions

What's In The Box?

ENTERTAINMENT

Slayd & The Possums!

play

The Crowning of the King of Misrule!

a lottery

King of Misrule

Special Gift

FOR THE FOOLISH

Ahh, but there are rule breakers amongst us aren't there? If you choose to sneak away from the party, chances are nobody will stop you; however, you are now on your own in the Talahee Forest.

FIRST LAYER

Rak'tika Greatwood Theme ( Civilizations ) by Masayoshi Soken

4:34 / 5:15

▶︎

Click here to listen.

"Civilizations" prominently features a female vocalist. The lyrics are in the Ronkan language, and has not been officially translated.

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The first layer of the forest is very much similar to what you have already seen. Everything is coated in a thick mat of moss and trees wind away like a massive birds nest to form the canopy above. The faint sounds of animals can still be heard. Up here, you may encounter Fae who did not attend the party. They'll ask you your name and other personal details.

Best that you lie.

SECOND LAYER

Click Clock Wood (Autumn) by Grant Kirkhope

1:12 / 4:11

▶︎

Click here to listen.

Grant Kirkhope is a Scottish composer and voice actor for video games and film. Some of his notable works include GoldenEye 007, Banjo-Kazooie, Donkey Kong 64, and Perfect Dark, among many others.

code

The further in that you head, the darker the forest gets. It seems you are following a downward slope. The trees get bigger here, as do the insects and toadstools. Bioluminescence rules down here it seems. You may encounter stranger creatures here. Ones that will try to make very tempting trades for your personal belongings. Things that will seem like an amazing deal to you. They offer magical items of great power, or even personal effects from home.

Don't be fooled though. These objects are cursed, and are not at all what they seem. You have the distinct feeling of being watched at all times here.

⁂ Possible Encounters: Owlbear, Displacer Beast, Giant Badger

THIRD LAYER

Saint Mocianne's Arboretum (Hard) by Masayoshi Soken

2:50 / 5:10

▶︎

Click here to listen.

...hordes of aggressive plant life exposed to the strange substance stand between you and the information you seek.

code

Are you getting smaller or is everything else getting bigger? Were Slayd here, he would have told you about the concept of Deep Forest Gigantism. The deeper you go - just like the ocean - the larger that the flora and fauna get.

You are dwarfed by the mushrooms here in the pitch darkness and only guided by the latent glow of the creatures and fungi that dwell here. Bugs the size of house-cats skitter in your wake. Are you sure you want to be here? Should you encounter anything larger, you’d best stay silent. Or run!

⁂ Possible Encounters: Giant predatory Elk (RUN), Rodents of Unusual Size, Extra Large Bugs

FOURTH LAYER

Poison Tree by Grouper

0:30 / 3:16

▶︎

Click here to listen.

'Poison Tree' is a meditation on the complexities of anger and the internal conflict it causes. It draws inspiration from William Blake's poem of the same name.

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The trees seem to clear out here as you reach the bottom of the forest. There is no light here so hope you brought a match. The landscape down here is a blanket of moss dotted with countless shallow pools. Looking into one of these pools, you will see your reflection... though it may look different in some way.

You will feel extremely compelled to reach down and touch the reflection in the water. Should you give in, you feel as though your world is turning upside down. You could receive memories not quite your own. Memories of a different version of you, even! (CRAU, Canon Update, or Canon AU!)

Yet, you will be experiencing them as your own. A long time could pass in your mind while only seconds have only elapsed in reality. Upon waking, you will find that you have been ejected from the party and the forest entirely. You find yourself at the entrance to the crater. Disoriented, and compelled not to re-enter, you have only yourself to blame as you must shamble your way home with this burdensome knowledge.

Notes

⁂ For the game prizes, we're using the honor system here! So long as you clear the roll then you can receive a prize with no mod permission needed.

Battleship

above a 13

Bobbing For Onions

above a 10

⁂ To sign up for The Crowning of the King of Misrule, comment here! We'll RNG the winner likely within a few days to a week to give folks time to participate if they want!

⁂ The plotting post for this event/November is up!

⁂ Additionally, we have a state of the game post available to people read about updates, clarifications, and a poll to participate in!

⁂ If you have any further questions or feedback about this event specifically, please comment here!

⁂ Full Navigation ⁂

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It's something Noct is intimately familiar with. Melancholy when he should be teasing, unable to maintain anything too positive for long. Something he intends to comment on, to reassure Ravus about. So is that uncertainty.

But Ravus' fingers curl into Noct's fur and he sucks in a sharp breath, back bowing as he lifts his hips slightly. His lower back has always been so sensitive, the tangled mass of scarring there making him hyperaware of every touch. Merging that with an almost feline instinct to arch up into any touch near what will soon be his tail? It leaves Ravus with Noctis pressed firmly against his chest, weight rocked forward so he can arch into his hand.

There's a low, satisfied sort of groan that escapes the younger prince as he leans in closer. A brief shake of his head as if to deny the apology entirely before he lets his head rest on Ravus' shoulder. Warm lips settle against pale skin, languid kisses along Ravus' throat while Noctis tries to drag his mind back to the conversation. "Not upset. It's nice. You're nice."

And if one of Noctis' hands curls tighter into that silver mane, mimicking the hold Ravus has in his fur well.... fair's fair.

Rosie doesn't realize until too late just what has happened. A burning sensation through her mouth, nostrils, and then lingering on her tongue. It doesn't hurt her the same way it seems to hurt him though; when he yelps, she flinches immediately and draws her hands up to her chest to shield herself. While she would say she didn't actually believe Popp would attack her intentionally, she's learned the hard way time and again to be prepared for that hit when someone else is hurting.

"I-" He looks hurt, too, from the unexpected attack. Frightened, betrayed- Rosie has wide, misty eyes herself as she tries to process what she just did. "I'm sorry," she manages to choke out. "I didn't mean to- I didn't even know I could, I just-" Her thoughts are still racing a mile a minute and her mouth is trying feebly to keep up.

"I can heal you," she offers, but remains frozen and posture defensive. She doesn't want to make any sudden moves, just in case.

To that, she can only give a small little hum of being far too pleased with herself about her self-harming with chocolate. She knows, okay! So does he! Sometimes, you have to suffer a little to enjoy something tasty. That's just how it works.

"I'd say you do, yeah," she agrees. "But we'll see. The siren call of chocolate is a powerful force indeed."

Sounds fun! I bet people came up with all kinds of crazy things.

[ Horny things too, she's sure, but she has the decency to not just say that. Let people run wild with their imaginations though, and inevitably... ]

Was it just you guys here who could do it or, like, anyone?

This is enough like the last time he nearly got killed that he can practically feel Zaboera's gross claws sinking into the back of his neck again. He touches his cheek and flinches. It's a different kind of poison, he can move this time. It feels weaker, more surface damage than something crawling around in his blood? He hates that he can tell the difference between poison experiences, some people go their whole lives without being poisoned even once! Was it really an accident, is this a ploy to finish him off?

"You're asking me to trust you after you just went and- and sneak attacked me?! How stupid do you think I am?"

He's trying to sound angry, which he is, but his voice is cracking underneath it. Even if she is some kind of demon, what's he going to do, attack someone who looks exactly like a crying woman that he rather likes?! That's impossible; if this is a trick it's a really awful one.

The walk falls quiet, and Byleth's mind tries to organize his thoughts. By the time they reach the house, and he's deposited gently on the couch, he feels exhausted. The idea of food right now is actually...unappealing. But he knows he should eat, so he will. Angeal has the right of it. He poses no argument other than a soft;

"Thank you."

It feels good to sink into something soft. He feels an apology rising in his chest, but knowing what he now knows of Angeal, it will be rebuffed. Instead, he waits patiently until Angeal emerges again to ask him a question.

"Will you stay with me? Just for a while?"

Perhaps for another person, they would be hesitant to believe Ravus's words. A lot is factored against him, after all... Or, rather, it is one major factor in that he inhaled a mysterious substance with unknown effects which could explain both intoxicated behaviors and hallucinating. If this were their own world, then Ignis would certainly put stock in that first and foremost.

Yet... Even with Ravus's eyes darting around, Ignis is already slowly letting down his arm so that it is not wrenched back so uncomfortably. A drunk accident isn't enough reason to really punish the poor man, after all.

Just... a surprised response.

He is far more carefully measured as he knees down besides Ravus, frowning a touch as he looks into his face. Indeed, in their world, he would simply assume him on some manner of drug. Here, however?

"...Well then. I hope you know what I have to say to that." I told you so about the damn fae pact. That is all Ignis will say on that, however, sighing as he reaches over to gently pat Ravus's poor shoulder. He'd even go far as to massage it, but he's worried he would do more harm than good with his claws. "Ravus, can you focus on me for a moment? I will help get you back to your feet."

While quite firmly holding onto that arm to make sure it doesn't get any other ideas, of course.

...And if it really still is the intoxication, then it's still a good plan of action.

All of my world are capable of such things.

[To his knowledge, anyway. He is not particular familiar with those not of his time, and has yet to truly understand the scope of what came after the Final Days.]

Well! "I was thinking to try it at home, myself, to ensure it wouldn't do something such as make you intoxicated," Ignis says dryly, "but I am glad that the worse that can be said about it is that it tastes like soap."

A pause, and there's just the faintest of little smirks. "Perhaps good for the potty mouth you sometimes let loose."

He's not being serious, of course. Noct is an adult. If he wants to curse like a sailor, then by all means, he's allowed - especially since they're in an entirely new world where his lineage doesn't necessarily matter unless you're Ardyn with an sadomasochistic incest streak. But Ignis will tease him, on occasion.

"I suppose I'll have to keep you updated." Byleth says with some amusement to his tone. He's fascinated watching Emet banish the created plate, the shimmering motes that dissipate reflected in pale eyes.

Ahh, but yes. The more important matter is at hand.

"Nothing, that's why I'm asking." He extends his hand as an invitation. "It's a party, is it not? Dancing is often expected, at least where I am from." Even the rowdy, drunken parties that the old mercenary company had included some dancing. Haphazard and usually ending in injury or property damage, but dancing nonetheless.

"Perhaps I could teach you a dance from my world?"

Don't you go sayin' dangerous things, now.

[ He clicks his tongue and the largest of the possums comes scampering up his back and onto his shoulders, taking the shape of his banjo thereafter. ]

Oh don't you worry I've got plenty of energy to go 'round. Ain't a little old dance gonna wear me down.

Well I reckon we've got ourselves a deal then!

[ Slayd claps him on the shoulder, perhaps a little too hard, but it's friendly at least. ]

With all the graceless countenance of a drunken, kicked dog, Ravus pouts at him about that line. The 'I told you so' is clear, but Ravus makes a low, guilty sound anyway.

"I am aware, yes," he says with a sullen timbre, and tries to ignore the way his patron giggles from just over Ignis' shoulder. Still... Ignis doesn't seem anywhere near as furious as Ravus expects. There's a measure of grace given, and Ravus can't bear to squander it, even with the world spinning, and shame burning the back of his throat. So he tries his hardest to do as he's asked, and desperately tries to keep his swimming vision from wandering away from those beautiful forest-green eyes.

"Smitten as a robin in spring, arenae ye?"

The fact Ravus manages not to snarl, but to stay on task, might prove that statement more than he'd like to admit. Ignis has asked him of something. It will be done. It's as simple as that in his mind. The most clear thought he's had so far.

"My work here is done then! I'll be seeing you again soon, precious sapling!" And when the fae winks out of existence, Ravus lets the tension out of his muscles where Ignis' hand lays. Thankfully, the magitek arm doesn't budge again without his input.

Normally, that would be all. He'd pick himself up with or without assitance, and crush down any emotion that might be misconstrued as weakness or doubt. But against his better judgement, and with the not-quite-courage provided by not being able to overthink, Ravus glances down briefly to his arm, where the flowers have wilted some with his mood. Then his focus comes back to Ignis again.

"You... you know I am not like that, don't you?"

So that's not what he expected to happen.

Whatever he was expecting quickly flies right out the window in favor of owlish blinking down at the extremely feline gesture. He doesn't remove his hand, nor does he stop the slow curl and flex of his fingers in the downy fur. Nothing too intense, just the slow test of that reflex, and how it pulls such interesting sounds out of Noctis.

He's not upset, which is good, Ravus idly thinks. Because the thought is truly only passing once the other prince presses warm kisses along his neck. He can likely feel the hard swallow Ravus has to choke down to keep from making any curious noises of his own. All that properly escapes is the hard exhalation he forces out, and the sharp way he takes in another breath in the hopes of keeping it somewhat together. It's really not helped by the slight tug at his scalp where Noctis has his fingers woven through his hair.

"I've yet to accused of such a thing," he manages to say with minimal slurring. Low, and deep, breathed out just between the two of them. Almost like he's forgotten they're technically in a crowded public space, and he likely shouldn't be taking such a tone with someone that's already spoken for quite a few times over.

Really, that scandalous thought makes him almost laugh. Just an amused sound he muffles in Noctis' hair. How ridiculous. He really must be so far gone to have such wild notions floating about. He's only got the crown prince of Lucis, barely clothed, in his lap, and arching his hips up into Ravus' hands. Kissing his neck, telling him he's nice, practically reining him by the hold in his mane. That's all!

"You're like a house cat," is the brilliant thing he tacks on. "I've always been more of a dog person, but I'm seeing the appeal."

Another interesting intersection of their personalities. For all he 'reads' Dirk, he'd be just as annoyed to be so quickly and succinctly summarized. The scrunch of his nose and grimace is noted, too, but he doesn't seem especially deterred still. That's interesting in and of itself.

"Don't worry," Ardyn offers, "I wasn't about to." Granted, the idea of telling specifically to make Dirk squirm has its own appeal. That thought is immediately followed by a snap of distaste from within his own mind; it's not his thought, but his dragon's, and he's growing tired of it's incessant 'correcting' his trains of thought to what's 'right' rather than fun. How is that any way to live, honestly?

"Ardyn Izunia, at your service," the redhead continues with and extends his not deer-gore covered hand. "Are you a recent arrival to our strange circumstances?"

[ Avan's best friend back home has absurd amounts of strength, so not only is Avan used to getting excessively hard friendly smacks, he's honestly kind of missed it. He grins at Slayd without complaint. ]

Yes!

They have more in common there than either of them realizes; how many times had Ardyn wished he could just stop himself? Yet, he was only denied by his own hubris and pride rather than out of any actualization. Granted, assimilating Ifrit's raging hatred towards humanity didn't help matters in terms of ever giving up on his conviction that it all needed to burn. (Ardyn's, or Ifrit's? Hard to say, these days.)

Ravus could have much better taste, Ardyn thinks, but isn't about to say any such thing aloud. Especially not when Ravus looks at him like he's done something right for once in all this with that ever intense gaze and appreciation tinging his tone. He had the help of his dragon soul, of course, but Ardyn will take more credit than he probably should on things turning out well. What else is new?

Regardless, he'll also try to at least give himself a bit more time before he inevitably shoots himself in the foot with all this. Before he does, in fact, ask Ravus for too much. "Kind? Me?" he questions, teasing. "What have you done to me already?" Yet, he knows to toe the line carefully - especially right now - between humorous self-deprecation and actual self-loathing.

"I'll do my best to keep it up but can't give any guarantees." Perhaps a bit too true to be genuinely funny, yet- Ardyn is worried, a little, that he's offering more than he can provide already too.

"I suppose only our first actual date together will be the best indicator. Which begs the question: When are you next free?"

"I don't know. And I'm sorry for that." He should be embarrassed, he suspects, to be so affected by something so small. Fortunately, the whole thing has yet to tap into that particular emotional well. A harder to reach offshoot of the deeper-seated shame that sometimes overwhelms him.

Suddenly, he gives a little shake of his head, flicking water droplets from his bangs. "Not worth worrying about, anyway. I'll live, and, like you said, Angeal will get a bag anyway. That's what matters."

If they weren't being dragged toward each other, Mithrun would probably be bowled over by his and Cloud's collision. Instead, he's just-- well, stuck. He makes a few efforts to shove at Cloud's arm and pull away, eyes wide, to no avail.

Mithrun... gives up, dropping his free hand by his said. "That is... a problem."

Hmmmm.

Mithrun's eye locks on what little he can see of the beast, tracking it with a honed intensity.

It's an unknown opponent - no type of monster he recognizes. In theory, it could be killed with a piece of debris teleported to any of the same spots that would kill any other animal, but that's no guarantee. If he misses, unable to clearly see the beast in its entirety, its anger could easily be lethal.

He pulls decisively at Sephiroth's arm again, dragging him further in the same direction he started, with a hiss under his breath. "This way."

Self-deprecating? Confirmation bias at its finest? Entirely likely, but Ravus doesn't seem to take it that way. He doesn't laugh or smile at the grim humor, but does tilt his head ever-so-slightly as if he's mulling it over.

"I do not ask for unknowable promises," he says after a moment, that intense mismatched gaze falling on Ardyn. An understanding brims in them, like he's had a quiet, private revelation of some kind. "Only effort." The same that has been asked of him recently. To try. It's only fair.

"As for schedules," Ravus trails off, a hand setting on his hip. "Well, I do not keep the rigorous hours I once did as the High Commander. I suppose unemployment has the benefit of giving me free time." The whole transplanted in another world bit remains unspoken, but it lingers there at the edge of his words. "Give me a bit of time to have something other than my coat tailored. If we're having a proper..." a date. He's going on a date with Ardyn, Astrals preserve him. His face flushes a bit darker, and Ravus clears his throat.

"If we're going on a proper date, I should like not to be dressed for combat... and you in something, anything, other than that."

Noctis laughs, low and warm against pale skin, before finally putting just enough space between them that he can meet Ravus' gaze again, a playful smirk on his lips. "Prom's the dog type. I'm definitely more cat."

True to his word Noctis does as cats do, greedily pushing up into Ravus' hand with a drawn out groan of satisfaction. Demanding and greedy and very much taking what he wants consequences be damned. Which is also what has him so very close to Ravus once again, ocean eyes gone dark and heated. Then Noctis closes the distance between them, capturing Ravus' lips in another kiss. This time he does not surrender it, though. No he stays right there, lips pressed firmly against the other man's, lapping gently at the seam of his lips until he can delve his tongue into Ravus' mouth. It doesn't really occur to him that, so much older than him, Ravus might not be terribly familiar with the sort of deep, possessive kiss Noctis presses upon him.

Noct's expression darkens further as Ardyn closes the space between them more and more. He barely realizes he's done it in the moment. Ardyn's claws lunge past him and Noct has already phased and inch to the side, just enough to not be in danger. Just enough to give him the space to draw one of Ignis' daggers from the armiger, his arm raised defensively but that blade already cut through the silly sheer, floaty pink sleeve of Ardyn's top to rest under his outstretched arm. It's a strategic placement, the blade threatening to press up that fraction of an inch to slice open the artery that runs there along the underside of his arm.

"Back. Off." He snarls, gaze hard but a little more controlled this time than their last confrontation. There's still so much turmoil in those blue eyes but the incandescent, helpless rage of the immediate aftermath of the Fall of Insomnia isn't there. Closer to the surface than he'd like to admit, maybe, but not right there in his every movement.

It only makes the flicker of uncertain curiosity that much more obvious when it happens, brows lifting slightly before he grits his teeth against the urge to demand those answers here and now. "So you can lie to me? Pull more of your manipulative bullshit like you did to my dad? Fuck you."

"I suppose you will," he says, though it's clear enough that he has no such expectations and that he is also in on the joke.

But, yes.

Emet-Selch regards the proffered hand. He's well aware of how common dancing is at these sorts of gatherings, of course, but it has always been optional. And really, who would dare tell the Emperor of Garlemald that he must waddle out onto the ballroom floor in his armor and cane and cut a rug, as it were? No one, obviously.

Emet-Selch mostly just appears less than eager to get up from where he's resting and go through the trouble of exerting himself without good reason.

"It is a party, yes, and I have noticed some few people dancing - though not all. Are you truly so eager to have your feet trod upon for the sake of a lesson?"

Brave man. Brave, but foolish. Emet-Selch still hasn't agreed, however; he seems to prefer to be difficult.

Edited 2025-01-09 17:07 (UTC)

"If you mean lascivious, I do," Ignis says, and takes care not to mention that he has seen some version of Ravus in far more compromising positions. However, in that case, it was also due to outside stimuli, and he won't hold that against the man. The simulation was built to incur such feelings in people one way or the other; Ravus simply stumbled into things at an awkward time.

At least this instance hasn't left him inhaling an aphrodisiac, and Ignis makes sure he's steady before taking his hand to pull him along. "However, sometimes an intoxicant can play with your mind... or certainly make you clumsy, at the very least."

And that's before any possibility of fae nonsense.

"Now then. I am going to take you into a small room to the side, Ravus, where you are to rest. Once I find Noctis and the others, we shall all head home together. Do you understand?"

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Page 38 of 46

EVENT #1: FAE FESTIVITIES

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cw: vague mentions of past abuse

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Wrap?

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Wrapped!

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Roll for persuasion. Need 12+ to dance (halfheartedly) and 16+ to dance (well)

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