[IC] Dreaming Together With You - A Fading Memory Experiment - On Hiatus

[psych0pomp]

Ambrose tugged a bit on his collar as the sun—seemingly always to be oppressive and bright—beamed down on him. A soft shiver ran through his spine as he felt the tiredness of his morning slough off of him. It wasn’t as peaceful as he made it seem, his face contorting into an uncomfortable scowl before he snapped back when a whistle commanded him.

He waved before he knew who had made the noise or required his attention. Much like a golden retriever ready to fetch a ball, he sprung to attention and jogged over to Freyja. He always thought that was a weird name, but there were many strange folk in New Hope. An amalgamation of peoples from everywhere thrown together like a haphazard pour of jellybeans. Ambrose wondered what the name meant, if anything, and why there was a useless ‘j’ in the middle of it.

When he approached, he noticed the disarray of her hair and the child atop her shoulders that had caused it. Ambrose tried not to make a face. Children were allowed to be messy and erratic, but he kept his distance from their antics. His belongings were too expensive to be soiled by tiny, grubby fingers.

“I said, almost single digit. Single digit implies dehydration on my part, and then your skin gets puckered and tired-looking. And I’m too young to be called ‘grandpa.’” He laughed, finding a complex, bougie problem to be hilarious. It would be noted that the townsfolk didn’t give two shakes of a stick.

He glanced over at all the exhausted, older workers and wondered where exactly they came from. Did the retirement center let out early today? Ambrose shrugged. “Sounds easy enough. Though fair warning, I’ve never been on a raft before. Mostly just yachts and a few story party boats. But you point me in the direction of what a center beam is and where it goes, and I’ll hold it.”

Ambrose wasted no time as he followed her back to the cadre of withered workers, smiling all the while. A lot of people put up with him in New Hope, but he knew that the older the denizens got, the less they gave a shit about keeping their opinions to themselves.

_{TAG(S): @Fading Memory}

[Fading Memory]

The Mencia Bakery
@Conscripts
The bakery was alive with a panoply of scents. It was a wonderful exclamation point in the dry smells of the summer air; the warmth and softness of the bread smell rushed out the door as David opened it. The inside of the bakery was lit by hanging lantern lights (electric, not hand-lit) that were holdovers from past renovations of the building. The foyer had a comfortable atmosphere to it, with its wide windows and display shelves- though seating was limited, a gentleman's agreement to keep the nearby cafe as a dedicated gathering spot with the bakery merely being a stop on the way for the locals.

"Come in." The gentle voice of Enrique Mencia wafted out on a breeze of dough-goodness. His voice was coming from the back kitchen, but in just a few moments the wizened figure appeared at the front counter. He pulled gloves off, dusted his hands on his apron, and fixed a gentle smile laden with a subtle anticipation upon David. "Ah, just the young man I was hoping to see today. How are you, David? You should be out relaxing with all the other kids, not holed up indoors laboring for little old me."

It was clear that he genuinely meant what he said, but also was deeply appreciative of David's efforts as well.

---

Lake Chartreuse
@psych0pomp

Ambrose's initial dialogue warrants a raised eyebrow from Freyja, who shifts her weight to the side and places her hand on her hip as she appraises him and his words.

"Mmm. Genuine hydration enthusiast, Ambrose, to my rescue." She laughs a strong laugh, then lifts Stig up off her shoulders and sets him on the ground. She glanced aside to a nearby elder and seemed satisfied that the toddler was being watched, before rising back to her full heigh and idly combing a hand through her hair as she turned to lead Ambrose along the dock. "Well, a raft is certainly nothing so grandoise as a yacht. I'll admit that. But... I bet none of your yachts or party boats were key to keeping the demonic realms sealed away." She wiggled her fingers at him to emphasize just how dang spooky the idea was.

At the end of the dock was the Ceremonial Raft of the Summer Festival. It was large, for a raft, but still probably utterly unimpressive to Ambrose's high standards. What this raft lacked in size and innate grandeur, it made up for in decorative and cultural iconography. The raft was essentially a floating platform/stage, the edge of the raft accented with a decorative crenellation of papier mache. This castle-styled wall decor obfuscated a step up onto the central platform, where two elaborate and old arches were being temporarily supported by ropes. They were lacking the central beam to unify the separate pieces and complete the moon-shaped architecture on the platform. Vines, flowers, and hand-woven wreathes have been interwoven on the arches' wooden beams. Freyja gestured to the dock, where a large support beam laid. A local fisherman moved, anticipating helping Ambrose- but whether Ambrose tried to show off and heft the beam by himself or accepted help, he wouldn't get a rise out of Freyja. The girl was focused on her task, and with his help she would soon have the base of the support beam lashed to the raft and soon be in the process of lining the arches up with it.

"Well, it may not look too impressive at the moment, but once we finish up today and we hang the tapestry up, you won't even be able to see this beam anymore, and when it floats out over the lake--" She pauses at that, and looks up at Ambrose with a lopsided smile. "Well, this year they asked me to do the ceremony, so when it floats out over the lake I'll be out there with the old bell and the silly shrine costume and have to do the dance to appease the demons of Lake Chartreuse."

"It's not silly." One of the nearby fisherwives chortled, sifting through rolls of fabric in a basket. Freyja laughs comfortably, but the woman shakes her head. "It's important. Can't have the lake waking up, no ma'am. You'd better do your best for all our sakes."

[Teyao]

The smile on his face could melt snow he was sure, hanging with someone was always so much fun! Oh he could't wait.

"Great! come jump into my bike and we can star searching for her, do you have any idea where she may be, forget that just point in a directon and we will be off!"

@myrkwise

[webboysurf]

Nathaniel Westmoreland

---

Nathaniel Westmoreland struck his shovel into the mound of dirt gathered in one of the family’s rusted red wheelbarrows. He heaved in with what little weight he had, filling up the head of the shovel to scoop out soil over the wire fence. He hated feeling his fingers clutch tight the handle of the shovel, picking up small patches of hardened dirt. He hated his white t-shirt clinging to his sweat covered back. Nate quickly shoveled a few pounds of dirt out of the wheelbarrow and into the large mud barrow. The sooner he was done with his work, the sooner he could get back to enjoying his day. Nate grit his teeth as he rolled the wheelbarrow back into the large toolshed to keep it safe from the weather, and grabbed the coiled up hose. He sprayed down the dirt in the mud barrow to keep it fresh, walked over to the connected pigpen, and sprayed water into their water trough until it was nearly full. The stench was nauseating to Nate, but his nose had become dulled to the smell of the happy pigs and their piles of manure. Even so, dealing with the fresh manure and urine was Rory’s job. Nate grabbed a long hook from the toolshed and used it to unlock and open the gate between the pen and the barrow. He quickly stepped back as a couple of the more clever pigs charged forward and dove into the fresh mud to cool themselves down. He groaned as he watched a small smatter of mud plop onto the hem of his overalls.

With his chores taken care of for the morning and the pigs oinking their satisfactions, Nate made his way into the house. He ignored his mother in the living room, sitting on the couch yet again watching game shows on the tv with her foot propped up on an ottoman. The truck was absent from the driveway, meaning Nate’s father must be out running errands. Nate quickly stopped by the laundry room, stripping off his overalls to apply some stain remover quickly. He took a quick shower, and changed into a simple outfit: sneakers, jeans, a plain t-shirt, and an overshirt. He didn’t bother letting his hair finish dry as he quickly grabbed his backpack, slinging it over his shoulder and heading out the side door of the house. He reached for the handle of his old yellow bicycle, ignoring the old peeling paint and squealing gears as he took off down the dirt driveway of the Westmoreland farm.

---

Before long, Nate rolled to a stop in front of the New Hope Library. He parked his bike in an old bike rack, not bothering to lock it. He walked in, giving a little nod of greeting to Old Hickory as the librarian was speaking into his phone. "You'll be the first I call... You too, enjoy the festivities, should be a good one this year." Nate climbed up to the second floor to find his usual table near the window, cracking open a worn copy of Homer’s Odyssey. His eyes drifted out the window between paragraphs, as he watched those near the shores of Lake Chartreuse preparing for the coming festival.

[ElegyHydrangea]

The smile on his face could melt snow he was sure, hanging with someone was always so much fun! Oh he could't wait.

"Great! come jump into my bike and we can star searching for her, do you have any idea where she may be, forget that just point in a directon and we will be off!"

@myrkwise

Toby pondered the question for a bit, before pulling out her phone, attempting to call Audrey right then and there. She knew her cousin had the habit of wandering off, though, so it wouldn't be a surprise if she couldn't pick up...

@Teyao @Gisk

[Gisk]

Audrey Springer

---

Audrey chuckled at seeing the compass.

"Making your own luck," she said, "Now that really is witchcraft."

Dropping down to her haunches, she looked over the fungi and insects that were slowly, but diligently, returning the dead tree to the earth. She could appreciate it, in her own way, though she knew she understood it much less than Rowan did.

Looking up at her friend, she asked, "Hey, do you know which of these shrooms could kill a guy?"

Somehow, from her the question sounded off-handed, rather than off-putting.

@Jumbus

~~~

As Audrey and Rowan conversed deep in The Weeping Sam, Toby's call went straight to voicemail.

"Hey, it's Aud. If you don't leave a message, I'm not returning the call. Even if you do, no guarantees..."

Beep

[PerfectThought]

Brown unfurled himself from his berth, almost bashing his head on the low ceiling due to his focus being placed on porthole looking out to the streetside. His mother always said he was clumsier when he was growing, god forbid he was still growing. He stumbled out of the cabin onto the deck, still his mind wandering idly. He noticed Freyja, and another boy ehom he only vaguely recognised. He considered going up and asking if they needed help, but he didn't know them that well and wasn't sure if it would appear odd or not. He wished one of his friends was there, but nay, it was just him and his decision. Eventually he concluded that it might appear rude to wander off without offering, especially as he realise, since he had apparently been staring for some time now. He just hoped they had not noticed. He put on his shoes, an old ratty pair of trainers. He then timidly wandered down the lakeside towards the raft. The boy and Freyja seemed to have a good rapport, and Brown's self-consciousness was only exacerbated by the fact the well put together boy seemed far better dressed than Brown, in his worn jeans and battered flannel shirt. Yet he was to close to back out now for he had been noticed. He gave a polite, if noticeably timid smile. He only hoped she remembered who he was, seeing as they were only acquaintances, in his consideration, despite them having grown up together. He didn't know the boy's name, only having seen him in passing around town, though he was visibly wealthy. After what he believed to be the socially acceptable amount of time to smile at them for, bridging the awkward gap of distance between them noticing him and him being able to talk to them without shouting. He spoke out to them from the shore, "Hi Freyja, noticed you over here. I was j- just wondering if you needed a hand from someone with a little more height." He chuckled nervously, realising it sounded like he was bragging, and implying the other bloke was short. Which was very much not the case.
@Fading Memory@psych0pomp

[SilverPaw]

Damon Howard

---

---

“And that’s a wrap!” Carlos called out as he clapped. He was a sizeable middle-aged man at 6’ feet. He had a beer belly going on, but there was definitely some muscle there too, especially in his arms. He had a warm Mediterranean complexion, and his thick dark brown hair had quite some grays in it already. There were laugh lines on his face which betrayed his friendly disposition.

Carlos Linares often helped organize events like this. For the Summer Festival, he’d been overseeing a group of volunteers as they prepared to help out re-enact the sealing of the Chartreusean demons. Some villagers even believed it to be an actual resealing.

And sure, Freyja would have the starring role in that. Each year, the Fontaines picked who the most appropriate person was, based on the alignment of the stars, and spiritual energies, and who knows what else. Though, credit where credit was due, when Damon had watched her practice, he’d thought she’d do very well.

Today, Freyja was away helping build the ceremonial raft – also very symbolically important. But these past few weeks, she’d often been right here in the town’s enclosed sport’s hall, going through the ceremonial dance, and prepping for the real thing.

The point was, even though she’d do the main part, there was still a very involved side-procession; first on the water in two-person boats to accompany the big raft, then on foot along the lake’s shore and further inland. Damon might just be one among the several supports, and it was a small-scale production all in all, but he was pleased to be involved nonetheless. Proud too, though he didn’t like admitting that one.

As Carlos called an end to the day’s rehearsal, the participants dispersed into smaller groups to chatter and clean up. Damon, who was the only one around his age there today, was mostly left alone. Honestly though, he was pretty damn tired, and didn’t mind missing out on some socialization just then. His breathing was laboured, and he’d sweated a lot. His clothes clung to him, uncomfortably sticky.

“Pheeew,” the boy breathed out, and went to sit at one of the spectator benches. Off to the side, some refreshments had been set up, including bottles of water; blessed, precious water.

He grabbed one, closed his eyes, and gulped down almost the whole half litre in one sitting. He’d drunk it so fast, he was forced to cough a bit at the end there.

“Hola! You ok there?” Carlos came by, looking down on him kindly.

Damon nodded. “Yeah. Thanks.” He wiped his mouth with the back of his palm, and looked up at the older man with a tired smile. “So? We all pass?” He asked jokingly.

“Si, si,” the Spaniard nodded, good-natured. “And you! You did good. Muy bueno! Glad you’re on the team,” the man grinned, and reached out to ruffle his hair.

The adolescent scrunching up his nose in faux discomfort, even though he secretly enjoyed and appreciated the gesture. Carlos chuckled and let him go.

More people gathered at the refreshments, and Damon too picked a home-made oatmeal bar and some fruit to nibble at.

After they were finished with the clean-up here, they’d all go up to the Shrine, to help sort out the various other props and start transporting them over to the lake.

[Jumbus]

Rowan Moore

---

Rowan gave a clever smile back to Audrey when she made the remark about making her own luck. She liked the concept of that; however rarely it comes to pass. Rowan was a firm believer in taking sure steps as opposed to risky leaps that may land her in trouble one way or another.

Rowan proceeded back to finish the final drawing for this area. It was of one of the parasitic vines toward the peak of the fallen tree. Her study wasn't close to being concluded, but she thought it would be best to start wrapping up. She had little interest in boring Audrey with the in-depth investigation and its details. Besides, the fallen tree wasn't going anyway. There was even some value in coming back once its state of decay had advanced.

"Hey, do you know which of these shrooms could kill a guy?"

This question was not much of a shock to Rowan. She knew Audrey well enough to know it was just a wandering curiosity. It was just a shame that even a request to know the edible mushrooms would be met with the same answer. 'I don't know'. Rowan was only an amateur mycologist and only had good guesses on what was around the tree. She lacked the confidence to be conclusive. But that left some excitement for when she could get home and look them all up.

Still, 'I don't know' is not a fun answer.

"Any mushroom can be pretty lethal with enough quantity. Even white buttons, if you were to eat your body weights worth of them." Rowan joked. Then returned to drawing in her notebook.

"I don't think I'll be much longer here." She notes without breaking focus from her sketch. "Did you want to kill some time in town? Or continue exploring? I'm alright with either."

@Gisk

[psych0pomp]

Ambrose tried not to look aghast at the thought of a simple raft “keeping the demons at bay.” Though the color drained out of his evenly tanned face. Anyone that knew that young Hightower man would know that he was wildly superstitious. The more supernatural it seemed, the further he wanted to do with it. Someone had witnessed him scoop spilled salt in his hand and throw it over his shoulder once. Mostly because it blew into a woman’s face and screaming commenced as salt in the eyes was not a pleasant sensation. So, he tried to keep his superstitions to a minimum.

He followed her, looking over the boat as they moved towards it. The entire affair reminded him of certain ceremonial displays he had seen in museums or preserved landmarks whenever he and his mother would visit Ambrose Hightower the First. They represented something far away and not at all to be found downtown in the small, rural town he currently called home. He’d lived here for several years, but never really taken part in the festivities. Usually, he was abroad during the summer. This one had been different as his parents had both become too busy to plan or fund such a trip. So, here he was.

There was a sort of a reverence held by the townspeople that made him keep his hands firmly rooted in his pockets and his feet one right in front of the other. As if one foul move would ruin the entire celebration and send demons clattering onto the docks with unbridled fury. He refused to be the bull in the china shop that released the End of Days upon the Earth.

He glanced down at Freyja as she admitted to being the star of the entire song and dance. Ambrose nodded in approval, as if it was warranted or wanted. When the older woman sniped that it wasn’t a silly tradition, the chills returned back to his spine. “I don’t want to think about the fact I’ve been swimming alongside demons,” he said. A wince bubbled up at the edges of his smile.

Ambrose focused on the fisherman with the beam, not wanting to think about the literal hell that was their lake. While he may not have been the sharpest knife in any drawer, he wasn’t stupid enough to throw his back out by refusing help. With a bit of grunting and sleeve rolling, they were able to get it up, and there Ambrose held it still. This is the part he’d show off. He had the stamina to hold something heavy for a while. There were implications there, but the ones that crossed his mind mostly had to do with highlighting his strength and balance. Not that he couldn’t be a horny teenager, but his brain was too busy making sure that he didn’t sweat too hard. He didn’t want to lose grip. His feet bit into the ground below as he became oddly silent with the task at hand.

It was then that an inflatable tube man of a boy came up, floundering about like a fish begging for water on the shore. Ambrose wasn’t too interested in him now, as he seemed to beeline to Freyja. Maybe he had a crush? And speaking of crush… the beam was trying to do that to his spine. Yet, Ambrose’s thoughts ricocheted away from muscle strain when he heard the other remark on his height.

“Dude…” he grunted, “we’re like the same height. “ He exhaled. “You can help if you like, but don’t throw me off balance. The lake demons will eat us, otherwise.”

_{TAG(S): @Fading Memory @PerfectThought}

[Teyao]

Toby pondered the question for a bit, before pulling out her phone, attempting to call Audrey right then and there. She knew her cousin had the habit of wandering off, though, so it wouldn't be a surprise if she couldn't pick up...

@myrkwise

Seeing the phone ring a few more times and then die he couldn't help but break the silence.

"Well, Audrey doesn't seem like she is gonna respond, probably forgot her phone or forgot to charge it, you know how she can be sometimes, ha ha ha" Wait, if she finds I was making fun of her at her back she will go off on me again "But let's, ah, let's think of something else okay? Like where should we go looking for her?"

Smooth as always Will, smooth as always

[ElegyHydrangea]

Toby scrunched her nose in mild concern, but ultimately shook her head.

"There's no point..." she muttered. "Is there anywhere you'd like to go?"

She hoped Will would have a better idea, frankly. All of her own ideas nowadays were just turning to crap.

@Teyao

[Teyao]

Oh man, Toby let him choose the course!

But what to do? the forest was that way and he had been there yesterday after his errands, the lake was out of the question as neither had swimming clothes and the Bakery was likely busy for the moment, plus the Festivities were sure to start at any moment(?) and he definitely wanted to participate in some of them.

Aha! The old shrine on mount Bilica should be near enough to use the old paved road and then come down for the festivities.

"What about visiting the Old Shinre? It has been some time since I have been there and it should be a good place to look around, if you want of course, any adventure is better when all are excited about it!"

@myrkwise

[Conscripts]

David Liang

---

The lure of the bakery was hard to resist. It was many times different from the contemporaries elsewhere that he knew of. Homely, warm and inviting. Just like the man standing in front of David, whom showed nothing but friendliness to him. David still hadn't forgotten the time he gave him free extra pastries just because he was new in town. He couldn't help but let out a smile as he stepped into the bakery.

"I am doing good, thank you Mr Enrique. How about you?" Instinctively he gave a slight bow as he neared the bakery owner. "I'd love to, but computers can be frustrating. I don't want you to be more of that than you already are. Don't worry, it is my last commission of the day, then I will go join the festival." David raised a thumbs-up in response, a little awkwardly but his enthusiasm was there.

When Enrique brought out the laptop as arranged, David wasted no time to unpack his tool, the replacement parts and got to work. He already corresponded with the man earlier back and forth, so he already knew what the problem was already. It just took a bit to figure out the tabs, as he hadn't opened many of these machines physically, and they were pretty tight. But he filled the silence by chatting with Enrique.

"Where is William today? I have not seen him in a while."
@Fading Memory

[Fading Memory]

The sun passes its zenith and moves towards the horizon as everyone mills about the day in their various ways. The atmosphere of the area of New Hope brightens as the day dims; as the sun sets and falls in the west, excitement bubbles up in an effervescent manner within the townsfolk. The Summer Festival is nigh.

---

@webboysurf

The Library

Nate enjoys the quietude and solace of the library's upper floors. His observations are, perhaps, the most objective of anyone's as to the evolution of the lakeside approaching the night. The way the stalls and tents appear, the procession of townsfolk increasingly setting up the last of the decorations, and the distant visage of the ceremonial raft being lowered into the lake...

Hickory knocks upon the wood paneling of a bookshelf, appearing quite suddenly on the second floor and nearby to Nate. The tall, broad, and hairy man stroked a hand through his lumberjack-esque beard as he appraised Nate.

"The Odyssey, eh? How far along are you?- No, wait, I suppose a more proper question would be 'how many times have you read it'?" He laughs a deep, booming, laugh that seems to fill the space and make the ceiling beams shudder. Hickory swiftly crosses to lean against the windowframe and gaze outward at the visage that Nate had been enjoying.

“Ah how shameless -- the way these mortals blame the gods. From us alone, they say, come all their miseries, yes, but they themselves, with their own reckless ways, compound their pains beyond their proper share.”

He spoke the quote easily, calling upon the words of Zeus with his timbre-rich voice.

"I always found that passage to be particularly compelling. Mister Westmoreland, I think it would serve you well to take it to heart." The bear of a man winked roguishly at young Nate in a conspiratorial manner. "Get out of here, my boy. The night is born anew and there are demons to put to rest in the lake. Try to take it easy, these are the best years of your life after all."

@PerfectThought@psych0pomp

Lake Chartreuse

Freyja gave a giggle at Ambrose's genuine concern over the demons of the lake, but not in the manner of mockery or admonishment; a simple sound of appreciation.

"Brown, more hands are always welcome. You can line up that other arch with me-- just like that, yeah, we need symmetry."

"Aye, symmetry. That's the way. Balance in all things, give and take, all things come full circle." The Fishwife chimed in, her voice warbling in her age. "Those arches represent the moon, you know."

"Yes, Goodie." Freyja said distractedly, not really paying any attention to the crone herself. She knew all the stories- most of the children knew them at least in part. The crone took this as opportunity to continue.

"The moon, the tapestry, the old bell- they were all key to calming the Lake. Aye, miss Hoar, you'd do your best or the whole town will wind up under the lake." The woman produced, at last, from her basket of cloth an aged and furled thing. She produced a surprisingly mighty gesture of waving the bundle outwards and unrolling it in a single movement, displaying to the youngsters working on the raft the old tapestry of the festival.

The cloth displayed a vertical image, of the moon overtop a lake. The lake was at the middle of the cloth, and on the bottom half the image was reversed; the lake at the top, the raft upside down upon the lake, and the water falling like rain upon the reflection of the moon. The center of the tapestry was dominated by the woven depiction of the Old Bell being struck and ripples spreading across the lake's surface.

"Do it right, or fear the night." The crone concluded superstitiously, tapping near to the bottom of the tapestry with her cane; the reflected moon displayed grotesque creatures reaching upwards towards the lake and the divine surface realm.

"Mmm. Yes'm." Freyja said dutifully, which seemed to satisfy the fishwife who now waddled away with her basket of cloths...

The three made good progress together, with help from other adults who had moments to spare- by the time the sun began to set, the trio would have lowered the raft onto the lakeside and secured it to the dock with ropes. Freyja wipes at her brow, sweat thick on her neck and shoulders, and lets out a relieved sigh.

"Oh, gosh, that's finally done. I've got to run off and get ready- I appreciate you both so much. Be here at midnight or I'll be angry with the both of you!-- Everyone had better be there!" She suddenly declared, before breaking into a sprint and scooping up the young Stigandr in her arms as she blitzed back into town to prepare for her special role that night. That girl could run like nobody else.

Time flies when you're doing hard work; Ambrose and Brown find themselves in the midst of the festival as it begins.

@SilverPaw

The Old Shrine

Damon spends much of the afternoon on the trek up to the shrine. The small group of people who were supporting the festivities and accompanying him were decent company- save for the brooding and serious visage of the youngest son of the Bilica family, Isaias. Being the only Bilica with an inclination for the artistic has rendered him the sole representation of the family in the festival preparations, and his sour demeanor has only grown the further up Mount Bilica the group traverses. The sourness finally warrants addressing and Robert Westmoreland takes it upon his shoulders to do the deed;

"--Alright, look, kid-"

"I'm not a kid." Isaias cut the older boy off. "'Daya's a kid. The little Ghost-boy is a kid. You wouldn't call me a kid if Big Z were here, so don't call me a kid now."

"Whatever. He's not, so you're 'Kid'." Robert pushed, suddenly whirling upon the boy. "You've got a good voice, and I swear sometimes I even think you could be decent if you tried, but you are seriously bringing this whole thing down. If you hate this all so much, you can just go. None of us will miss you, and you can go kick a puppy or something on your way back down the mountain. Or whatever it is you Bilica kids do when nobody is around to give you attention."

Isaias seemed as if about to speak, anger flashing across his brooding features and bringing a light and fierceness to his previously subdued expression, but he held his tongue. Gone was the weight of the unspoken loathing, and in was the accusing and sharp jab of the directed rage. A nearby girl glanced at Robert, bringing a hand to her face in a show of worry. She spoke softly;

"Robert, you're being mean-"

"No, mean is what his little sister does to Toby when nobody else is around. Mean is the song and dance that his family makes the Cheeseman kin do. This is just honest-" He pauses, gritting his teeth. "Shit, now I sound like Nate. Look, Isaias-"

"Don't say my name. Whatever, I can see I'm not wanted here." He turned, a storm in his movements, and swiftly began to walk back down the mountain. Chatter spread across the other kids, and Robert clicked his tongue before charismatically taking the reigns of the tension and bringing the situation back into something resembling peace.

"I'll get an earful from Weasel later for that, but sheesh- at least this walk can be enjoyable now that he's not bringing rainclouds down on us. Check out the view from up here."

Gazing down the mountainside at Lake Chartreuse is a mystical, almost supernatural, experience as the sun wanes on the horizon. Its orange-gold glow spills across hillock and across the grasses, creating an almost syrupy quality to the scene. The reflection off Lake Chartreuse is dazzling at this angle, and the vague outline of tents being set up can be seen even at this distance.

The rest of the trip would be in improving spirits and rising excitement.

---

The walk back would be laborious and less jovial, hauling the packs prepared by the Fontaine Duo. The venerable couple accompany the procession back down the mountain path in a serene sort of existence. Minoru and Sybille Fontaine are already clothed in the traditional garb of the Shrine Watchers, and carry between them on ancient wooden handles the Old Bell. They are silent for much of the journey, but when they finally reach the edge of town Minoru chooses to speak. Everyone falls silent as if an unspoken command bid them obeisance.

"Young Howard." He begins slowly, directing a nod towards Damon. "I look forward to seeing your interpretation of our traditional performance." His smile was an easy one. "You always bring a colorful and invigorating perspective on these things. It brings much joy to my heart whenever I hear you are participating."

It may be the first time either of the Fontaines have ever explicitly said anything of the sort to Damon, but it is true upon reflection that anything that Damon had performed publicly they had attended. Sibylle matches her husband's smile and made an addition to the prompt;

"I would, personally, enjoy hearing what you believe about the sealing ceremony itself. Young Miss Hoar was our choice in handling the ceremony, she fills the role in a most auspicious manner and it must be done precisely- but what do you think of the story, hm? The demons and the darkness beneath the lake?"

Regardless of his answer, or lack of one, the Fontaines will move on after his response. This will leave Damon free at the Start of the Festival within town.

@Conscripts

The Mencia Bakery

Enrique gave a laugh, welcoming David in once again with a gesture of his arm. He quietly strolled along the counter, produced the laptop in question, and granted it into the custody of David.

"William went out into the town. He could be anywhere from halfway up mount Bilica to somewhere neck deep in the Swallow if I had to guess. I can only be certain that he is not right here!" He laughed warmly as he idly cleaned the countertop. "He's a good boy, kind and gentle- and every bit as foolish as his father was."

A brief introspective moment seemed to grip Enrique- but then the door to the bakery opened, and the easy and gentle smile settled back onto his features.

"Mencia." A gruff voice said as greeting. "Sorry for being late."

"Tom." Enrique responded with the same warmth he'd given David. "You are right on time, no apology needed." Enrique soothed the stern man's annoyance carefully. "A few minutes more cooling on the shelf can hardly matter, what's got you so worked up, my friend?"

David witnesses Tom Springer run a hand over his worn and furrowed face, as if trying to wipe the exasperation from his brow.

"It's that damnable woman, Enrique, it's like she's got a voodoo doll or something. Every time she comes home it's like she's got me on the wrack, but every time she leaves it's like she's still there over my shoulder giving me those eyes."

"Ah." Enrique contributes admirably. "Woman problems."

"Women are the problem." He grunts, turning his gaze over to David. "Learn from your elders, bud; you don't control who you love, but it'd be a damn sight easier if you could." He laughs raucously, as if his little play on words were somehow the pinnacle of wit and merriment. Enrique maintained his kind smile and nodded once. Tom turned his attention back to the baker and shook his head, still quietly laughing to himself.

"Oh, god, that was a good one. I'll need to write that one down. How much do I owe you again?..."

Their transaction goes smoothly, and Enrique soon slides a cake box onto the counter towards Tom.

"Just as you requested, Tom. I hope it helps."

"Oh, it will. With the festival going on, the brat will be out all night. That gives me and the missus a chance to make up over some red velvet and brown liquor."

"Ah." Enrique admirably contributes once more.

"Mhm. You're a life saver, Mencia." Tom says, whistling a tune as he begins to leave. He pauses at the door and rolls his neck suddenly, lifting a hand to swat at the side of his neck as if at a mosquito. _{"Devil-woman, I swear she's got some witchcraft on me."}

Then he's gone- and David realizes how late the hour has gotten. The Festival was nearly begun!

Enrique lays out a plate laden with a cupcake on the counter and chuckles quietly as he pushes it towards David.

"Consider it your tip, young man. There's a festival waiting for you."

@Jumbus@Gisk

The Weeping Sam

The clearing grows more characteristically dim as the eve sets upon the Weeping Sam. Even the shattered canopy cannot forever dispel the gloom as the sun moves its way beyond the zenith and falls in the sky. However, as the two are discussing their next plan of action there's a sudden rustling amongst the nearby trees and a familiar figure emerges into the clearing; Rowan's father, Isaac. He pauses as he sees the two girls and breaks into a grin.

"Aw, shoot. You found it already." He laments upon seeing Rowan. "There goes my silly little forest surprise. You guys got any more stragglers? We're running out of daylight and the festival won't wait on us just because we've grass stains."

And as he speaks, the youngest boy of the Bilica family, Isaias Bilica, emerges from behind him and glowers at the two girls in the remnants of a stormy anger. He looked worse for wear, his clothes streaked in dirt and his shirt torn at the side. He had a bruise on his cheek that was worsening- but otherwise seemed to be as petulant and fueled by quiet anger as ever, and is fine.

"..." Isaias refuses to speak, but looks over at the fallen elm tree. His eyes widen and his perpetual rage simmers into a stunned sort of reverence at the sight. He grips onto a rope extended from Isaac's pack a little tighter, prompting the veteran ranger to glance down at him and then back at the girls.

"Ah, lad's shy around a couple of pretty girls. I see how it is." He teased, winking to the two girls to denote the playfulness of the situation and his efforts to ease tension on the young boy. Isaias blushes ever faintly at the jab. "I got a call from the Fontaines that he wasn't with the rest of the group who made the climb, and I'd say he's rather lucky I took the hike out here."

Isaac rolled his shoulders and walked through the clearing in swift strides, Isaias in tow as if being pulled by the lead-rope he refuses to release.

"Alright ducklings, time to get in a row. I know two mothers who would have my head if I let you kids get lost in the Sam in the dark. I also happen to know two very smart girls who can handle themselves- but mothers don't always see the same thing as me, so let's play this one safe, eh?"

Isaac will gently push the girls to return to New Hope; when they do so, it will ever-so-conveniently end up at the same time as everyone else! How quaint.

@myrkwise@Teyao

New Hope Streets

William and Toby begin to make their way from the Market Lane and towards the road up Mount Bilica- but find the throng of Market Lane moving with them. The hour had grown later than they anticipated, and now nearly all of the townsfolk were moving along towards the edge of Lake Chartreuse to set up the last of the tents and decorations. In the chaos of suddenly moving bodies, Toby and William find themselves swept along.

The throng suddenly parts, like a wave crashing upon a rock, and deposits the two into the vicinity of two severe figures of the town's ecology; Ashton Howard, tall and imperious, shaking hands with the aged and decrepit form of Stoat Bilica, the Elder, as he leans heavily upon a cane.

Their dialogue comes to a close, Toby and William catching the end of what appeared to have been a brief, private and hushed, conversation.

"...going smoothly, Mr. Bilica, I assure you that there's nothing to worry about." Ashton assuages the elder stoically. "You just need the votes. Worry about it after the festival."

"Bah, that bastard won't be relaxing at the festival, and neither shall I." Ezekiel pulled his hand back from the handshake and wiped it on his robe as if he'd just touched something distasteful. He thumped his cane heavily upon the ground and spat suddenly over his shoulder, into the alleyway behind him. "Hoar-sons and Hoar-daughters-- Bah!"

Toby and William witness even the monolithic Ashton Howard being forced to move suddenly as Stoat Bilica barges past him and through the crowd like a shark through the school of fish. Ashton clears his throat, dignifies himself by smoothing out his vest, then merges back into the crowd.

It was nearly time for the festival already. My, how time flies.

---

Dreaming Together With You

Act 0.5: Crossfade

_{Art prompted by Aegidius Aurelius, made with Midjourney}

Drums echo across the night; the sunset and rise of the moon heralds with it the thrumming of large ceremonial beats. A bonfire surges to life in a clearing, safely positioned away from anything flammable but still aesthetically at the mouth of the dock. The traditional garb of the festival and town's history was colorful and diverse, and as the adults of the small village milled about it filled the air with a nostalgia and longing for times before the births of our intrepid heroes.

The long procession of stalls and tents are lit with lanterns- decorated and painted by hand over the last few weeks- and braziers offer heat against the onset of the night, incense burning from their stoked coals. The lake surface is devoid of any boat save for the Ceremonial Raft, which sits tethered at the end of the dock. The lake is not empty, however; hundreds of additional lanterns float idly upon its surface, lit and dancing on its surface gaily- but casting shadows deep into its surface. Occasionally the silhouette of a fish can be seen. As the moon rises, its reflection can be following across the lake as if it were the surface of a silver clock.

Games and merriment are begun. The Festival is on!

---

As always, these scenes are not a required interaction, just something to help establish the setting and give easy hooks into interaction

Bilica Nonsense

Odaya whirled on her feet, her red eyes piercing through the crowd like the proverbial gaze of Sauron. She, somehow, saw right through people and simultaneously was almost utterly blind at her diminutive height through the throng of the crowd. She huffs, then puffs her cheeks out, then suddenly jabs a passerby in the leg and grabs ahold of their clothes.

"Have you seen my brothers?" She demanded of the unfortunate passers-by she managed to grab ahold of. The taller adult swiveled their head around, before finally pointing in a direction. Odaya nodded, released her captive, and skipped through the crowd in the indicated direction. She pushes through a young couple, separating them with a snicker, only to find herself looking up at the, to her, towering (Yet still average for their ages) heights of three of her older brothers; Gavriel, Simeon, and Raphael.

"She found us." Simeon groans, pushing Raphael by the shoulder towards Odaya. "She's like, knee height."

"Yeah but she's also like eight, someone probably just pointed us out to her." Gavriel sighed. "Look, Raph, do something."

"Why is it always me?" Raphael began- but Odaya stuck her tongue out and stomped on his foot.

"Why is it always me?" She mocked, waving her hands in the air in a jazzy manner as the boy hobbled back from her. "Because you're a big baby and let them boss you around." She laughed hysterically, and moved between them, swaying in her jumper in a mockery of adorableness as she looked up at them all. "Whatcha doin? I'm bored."

The older of the two, Gavriel and Simeon, exchange a look.

"Well since we're still waiting on Z we were going to play a game."

"A game?" Odaya said hopefully.

"Fuck a game-" Raphael groaned- only to get muffled by Simeon's hand as he steadied the wobbly younger brother.

"Yeah, a game." Gavriel continued. "It was one of mom's favorites."

At that, Odaya's eyes lit up- but upon hearing that, Raphael grew still and nodded a few times, as if receiving a telepathic message from the other two boys at that statement. Odaya jumped up and down once, then twice, and clapped her hands.

"Then I'm gonna be the best at it!" She declared fiercely. "What is it?" Her eyes followed Gavriel's movements, and she found herself lifted up and carried by Simeon and Raphael along the path towards an ever-strange tradition of festivals; a basin laden with apples floating in water.

"Mom loved to go bobbing for apples. Here, we'll help you since the tub is so tall." Gavriel said- right before Raphael and Simeon shoved Odaya's head into the water. Everything seemed relatively benign at first, but Odaya's energetic movements do begin to show subtle signs of childish panic after a moment. Her older brothers all laugh and chatter over the scene as if it's merely a family moment of enjoyment.

Town Politicking

Elsewhere in the Festival, sequestered beneath the largest of the tents, sits a sparkling figure. Standing out like a beacon of sequins and jewels, Maryann H-Smiite laughs like a Kookaburra. A warbling, high pitched, thing that somehow flows out naturally from her manicured visage; all curled hair and precision makeup, not an inkling of conventional and traditional heritage in her appearance.

"Oh, I am told that my Ambrose- my boy- ha!- you know? I'm told that my Ambrose helped build the Raft this year. Isn't that just darling? How quaint! He's going positively local, I tell you." She sips delicately from a glass of wine, before continuing. "Not that that's a bad thing, mind, but- ha!- You know what I mean? Positively assimilating, he is. What a proper young man, my Ambrose. My boy, that is. Ha!"

"Mm. I do have some concerns about his grades thou-" Violet Cheeseman tried to interject, but the dazzling woman interrupted the teacher by clearing her throat and lifting a hand.

"Ooo, no thank you, I don't handle the education. That'd be the father. I'll have to give you his number, miss..."

"Cheeseman, mrs. Hightower."

"Smiite, please. Hightower-Smiite." Maryann interjected firmly.

"Mrs. Hightower-Smiite."

"Mrs. Cheeseman." Maryann agreed, smiling a million kilowatt smile. Violet, temporarily stunned, blinked in silence until she found words again.

"I'm just concerned that he's only performing well with help-"

"It's good for a boy his age to have friends- ha!- I'm sure you know what I'm talking about. He's a friendly boy, sociable, in all the right circles-"

"But he's not-"

"-And his father is the one focusing on his education, you understand, so if you have any news on it do give him a call."

"But Mr. Hightower doesn't-"

"-Is a very busy man, I know-Ha!- Gods above do I know. It's a struggle, Mrs. Cheesel-"

"Cheeseman."

"-Right, Cheeseman. I understand, I truly do, but what makes you think I could get ahold of him any easier than you?" Her dazzling demeanor came crashing into a brief moment of seriousness that struck the teacher like a sledgehammer. Violet reeled from the conversational blow and stammered awkwardly for a few moments, before sighing and shaking her head.

"I just wanted to make sure he was receiving attention at home." She said at last. "To let you know that he needs support."

"I assure you. Ambrose has everything he could ever want, and more." Maryann coolly assuaged. "He has never known want."

_{"That's what I'm afraid of."} Violet murmured, acquiescing defeat and leaving the socialite woman to her wine. As the teacher escaped the woman's sphere of influence, Stoat Bilica thumped his way towards Maryann's table and deposited his aged form into the chair opposite hers. Maryann raised an eyebrow, perceiving this as a social faux-pas, but gestures with a gloved hand to the elder; the two begin to speak in hushed voices.

---

Outside that same tent, the parents of Freyja and Stig Hoar stand; their faces bright, their expressions joyous and vivacious, and their their demeanor that of everyone's best friend. The mother holds Stigandr in her arms, whilst the father shakes hands and exchanges pleasantries with those who pass by. Freyja is nowhere to be seen, but the disparity of the perceptions of the Hoar and Bilica families are made even more obvious by this scene.

Everywhere Stoat Bilica treads, the paths clear and people let him through as if he were a boulder coming downhill. Wherever Mr. Hoar treads, people go out of their way to greet him and ask about his day or share a story of their own. The atmosphere outside the main tent radiates this perpetual friendliness, and it radiates out through the festival like a comfortable blanket. Truly the Hoar family were pillars of the community.

Wong Liang can be seen hesitating, holding a wrapped box in his hands. He sighs, steels himself, then approaches through the crowd. Before he can speak, Mr. Hoar calls out to him;

"Wong, how are you? How has David been?"

"Well." He nods once, his words coming quick and after a moment of thought. "We are both... Well."

"I'm glad, are you enjoying the festival?"

Wong has to pause again and slowly turns in a circle, taking in the world around him, before bowing partially to Mr. Hoar and nodding several times.

"It reminds me of Home." He smiled brightly as he said it, his words still halting and broken despite his time in New Hope. Mr. Hoar laughs and gently pats the man on the shoulder.

"I'm glad, this place is your home for as long as you need it to be. The Armstrongs tell me that you and your son are invaluable to New Hope already."

"You honor me." He gasps, eyes wide. "--Stop, I am....Distracted. A gift, please, for you and your bride." Wong offers the wrapped box out to the Hoar family, stepping back to bow once again.

"You don't need to give us anything." Mr. Hoar began earnestly, but Wong continues;

"Please. We have been...Welcomed. Taken care of. It is from the... Heart."

Mr. Hoar takes the box and, after a glance to his wife, beams and excitedly tears the wrapping paper apart then opens the lid. H e shows it to Mrs. Hoar who exclaims;

"It's lovely! Oh, my!" She laughs a beautiful laugh- a laugh which makes the young Stig in her arms smile brighter and reach for her hair, much like he does with Freyja.

"It is from my home. A tea set." Wong says nervously. "I know it is not the same for your family but...Tea is a bonding time for...Mine. I hope you find joy in it."

Mr. Hoar suddenly embraces Wong with one arm, a big friendly hug.

"And I hope you continue to enjoy your time here in New Hope."

[PerfectThought]

Brown L. Cheeseman

Brown had barely had time to wipe his brow before Freyja made her hasty exit, he nodded fervently just before she turned tail and left them in the dust, the little tyke in tow. He smiled airheadedly. He had always liked Freyja, it was hard not too with how friendly and bubbly she was, and just like the rest of the town he adored little Stig.

He turned on the spot looking at the raft and it's surroundings. They'd given a fair crack at the whip. And it looked pretty good. He was happy with his work but still wanted to enjoy the festival, and now he didn't even have an excuse to duck out early. He had to watch Freyja's performance, on pain of friendly teasing from her. He turned to his new acquaintance, he really wasn't sure yet, but Brown wasn't socially ept enough to know how to blow him off without looking rude. He stuck out his hand unusually confidently, "Nice to properly meet you. I'm Brown L. you might know my mother, Violet Cheeseman? I'm afraid I'm not quite sure of your name." He looked him in the eyes and raised the corners of his mouth and stretched his lips, a smile. Indicating his lack of ill-will.

He somewhat hesitantly added, "I'm waiting on a friend, who I haven't seen hide nor hair of yet. Until then, would you like to look around with me?" He peered oug from under his shag of golden hair, one examining eye open, the other shut like an extended wink.

@psych0pomp

[Gisk]

Audrey Springer

---

Audrey was about to voice the opinion that it was probably about time to head back for the festival anyway, but Isaac Moore turned up quite suddenly. She supposed she shouldn't be surprised to find him out here. Actually, if anything she was the one who was out of place. At least, until Isaias revealed himself. He looked incongruous basically anywhere that his older brother wasn't, and in fact his presence prompted Audrey to glance around, half expecting Weasel to emerge from the underbrush. But Mr. Moore explained that he had gotten separated.

Good, Isaias was a little shit, but without Weasel around he knew better than to cause trouble in front of Audrey, let alone a responsible adult. Audrey liked Mr. Moore, he minded his business and didn't push a lot of crap on the younger generation. Hell, even Hick had his expectations that she found herself having to live up to.

They walked back as a group, Audrey briefly thinking about her father's car parked nearby, but deciding she could go back for it later. Nowhere in town was that long of a walk, anyway.

"I actually like the old rituals and stories, did you know there's almost nothing written down about them in the library? It's all oral history."

As they walked, she chattered with Isaac and his daughter(sparing little attention to the ferret they had hanging on).

~~~

Somehow in the throng that they arrived to, Audrey ended up stuck with Isaias. She wasn't sure if he was following her, or was simply bring pushed by the crowds in the same direction, but either way, she pricked her ears up for the sound of kids being aasholes, and sure enough, she spotted the rest of the Bilica children gathered around the apple bobbing trough.

Audrey marched up, matter-of-factly, and grabbed the back of Odaya's sweater, pulling her out of the water and firmly onto the ground.

"Trade ya," she said, shoving Isaias forward toward his brothers once Odaya was safely on her feet.

[SilverPaw]

Damon Howard

---

---

The hike up to the Shrine was mostly enjoyable. Sure, there was Isaias sulking and quietly brooding off to the side, but Damon found him easy enough to ignore. He chatted with the others about nothing in particular as they ascended.

But it looked like some else couldn’t stand how the Bilica boy stared daggers at them all. Robert addressed Isaias’ silent hostility, and the latter was quick to storm off.

“Isaias-!” Damon called out on instinct, but the other either didn’t hear or didn’t want to listen.

Damon frowned after the younger boy, and scuffed a shoe against the dirt path. That had been a bit mean, but Robert also did have a point. If Isaias didn’t want to be there, he didn’t need to be. Still, the kid had looked offended – maybe even hurt – when he’d been chased off like that.

Damon sighed and put it off his mind. He followed Robert’s cue, and went with the others to check out the stunning view.
Just looking down at the golden hued lake was enough to improve his mood; it even felt like the physical fatigue was being drained from him.

“This is amazing…” Damon said quietly, and clearly, everyone agreed.

There was a slight nagging at the back of his mind; a thought in the form of, He should have seen it too. But there were so many other things to do than think about Isaias – the next time he did was on the way down, when it struck him that it really was a good thing after all the boy had left. Because, damn, if he’d hated going up, he would have been a hundred times worse on the way down.

Finally, they’d arrived at the edge of the town. That was when the Fontaines chose to speak to him.

Damon looked up wide-eyed; for once, his natural hazel irises revealed, because he didn’t like to wear contact lenses during physical activities. A slow, appreciative smile spread across his features at the unexpected compliment. “Thank you, sir.”

Then, Mrs. Fontaine challenged him. It was kind and casual, but a challenge nonetheless.

Suddenly, his pulse felt heavy, quick; noticeable. Did he say that to butter me up? Doubt started creeping in. Have they been watching all this time just to see if I’m ‘faithful’ enough?

Everyone stood there, surrounding him, waiting on his answer.

Tension mounted.

As Damon met the Fontaines’ gazes, the awareness of being put on the spot flipped a switch in him. He realized that he could appeal to them, while still holding true to his views. His heartbeat calmed, and he straightened up. His expression settled, and so did his nerves.

“I don’t know about demons,” Damon said frankly. Literal, actual demons – as in, supernatural, hellish creatures plaguing the world? It…seemed unlikely. “But I know there’s darkness.”

Darkness like his mother dying.

Darkness like the tragedy of the kid after whom Weeping Sam had been named.

Darkness like all the bad things that happened without rhyme or reason.

Darkness like…

Yeah, there was darkness. “And I think…I think what we do – our actions, and our beliefs, I think it can help. Help make it better.” He put a hand to his chest. “In here.” He gestured to their surroundings, as if to encompass all that there was with one simple motion. “Out there.”

He wanted to believe that. Strived to believe it. That it all could be better. That there was hope.

That what they did mattered.

And the Fontaine couple acknowledged his answer with a nod. They moved on.

The rest of the way back, Damon was lightly ribbed for his impromptu heartfelt speech, and though embarrassment coloured his cheeks and ears, he still felt a sense of accomplishment.

He thought that had gone well.

***

Before his mother had died, they’d all attended these events as a family. Sometimes the trio of father, mother, son stuck together, and other times, the eldest two Howards went alongside as well.

Ever since then, Damon didn’t want to be anywhere near wherever his father or even grandparents were, or whatever it was they were doing. He wanted nothing to do with it.

This was how he was found somewhat aimlessly weaving through the crowds, looking for some company.

By happenstance, he saw the three Bilica brothers tormenting their little sister. As if she had a sensor for this exact scenario, Audrey appeared to save Odaya. And hadn't he, just some hours ago, said to the Fontaines something about helping?

Sighing, he squared his shoulders and made his way to the company.

Quickening his pace, he pretended as if all he could see at that moment was Odaya. He approached her from the front, radiating concern. Damon then dropped to a knee, and dramatically put a hand to his chest. “My Lady!” he exclaimed with a sense of astonishment, which though played up, came across quite seriously. “You are positively drenched,” he tutted. He stripped off his jacket, and passed it over to the little girl.

“What terrible misfortune has befallen you,” he shook his head, and frowning, stood up. “Aha! You must have been accosted by these roadside bandits!” he quite suddenly pointed to the three brothers. He narrowed his eyes at them in warning. His little scene would draw attention – attention they likely wouldn’t want.

Then, his gaze landed on Isaias. “But you, young man…Were we not recently separated? If you wish to rejoin our company, you need only follow.” He raised a pointed eyebrow, hoping Isaias would get it. “There’s a procession to attend to, and our numbers are lacking one. If I am not much mistaken, that one is you,” he added, just to drive the point home.

Then, he finally turned to Audrey (and Rowan). “Ah, please excuse my manners, kind strangers. My most heartfelt thanks for providing aid to her Ladyship,” he executed a simple bow; the kind he thought a noble’s retainer would perform.

As he rose from the bow, however, his expression was once again his own. He had a slightly awkward ‘what can you do’ smile in place. Nonverbally, he pleaded with the teenaged girls that – even if they didn’t go along with his little performance – they’d at least not dismiss it out of hand. Because in his own way, he was trying to smoothly resolve the situation.

---

---

@Fading Memory, @Gisk, and probably @Jumbus

[psych0pomp]

Everything ached but in a good way. Ambrose couldn’t say that was usual. The only thing he didn’t care about was the few scratches on the palms of his hands from handling the wood. They’d heal quickly enough, but for someone that had a “moisturizing routine,” it was a nuisance. After Freyja vaulted off, the child in toe, he found himself swallowed by the night of festivities. The goings-on of the day had distracted him from whatever his brain could pry out. Silence was the crowbar of discontent for him.

He wasn’t paying attention to anyone around him or anything that might have been said in his direction as they were abandoned by his car on the outskirts of the festival. He hit the key fob and opened the backseat, peeling off his dirtied and sweated-in shirt. It was then he realized that the guy from earlier was still loitering around. More so, that he was talking to Ambrose.

Ambrose stood there without a shirt on, the coolish air picking at his bare skin. It was without a blemish, scar, or other imperfection, and perfectly crafted like it’d been sculpted out of marble or some other slick, sexy rock. “Uh. Why would I know your mother?” Violet Cheeseman raised no alarm bells in his brain. She sounded like a character out of a children’s book with that name. Then again Brown Cheeseman sounded like a rare brand of some hard cheese served at one of his mother’s wine tastings. He’d gotten blitzed at a young age thinking it was a weird grape juice and scarfing all the cheese his little mouth could hold. He’d been a solid circle of a child.

He pulled his shirt over his head and slid it over his chest, it was form-fitting, allowing the warm light of the festival to leave little to the imagination regarding his musculature underneath. His shirt was a deep blue, and on it was an anime character of some kind. He didn’t know who it was. One of his friends back in New York had mailed it to him for his birthday. He’d tossed it into the back of his car as an “emergency” shirt. It layered with his distressed khakis and sneakers quite well. As if Ambrose could ever wear something unattractive.

“Ambrose,” he said, “Ambrose Hightower. I’m sure you’ve heard of me before, or at least my mom.” He shrugged. “Sure, I can hang out with you. I’m surprised you have friends.” He paused, realizing how that sounded. “Considering I don’t know who you are or your mom for that matter. Are you new to town?” He gestured to himself. “If we don’t find your friend, we can find some of mine. Mi… uh… friends… es… su… friends.”

_{TAG(S): @PerfectThought}

[Fading Memory]

Bilica Nonsense
@SilverPaw@Gisk

Audrey directly intervenes in the perceived bullying of Odaya; she grabs the young girl by her Jumper and pulls. Simeon and Raphael release Odaya, whirling and backing away from Audrey in the process. Thusly, Odaya is lifted from the water- triumph in her eyes as she clasps an apple in her clenched jaw, every bit the struggling-for-air superhero that she thinks herself to be in this moment. She looks briefly stunned to find herself being pulled out by someone else- not having realized the scenario she was in herself- and looks up at Audrey with wide eyes. Still biting the apple. Then, seemingly as if on general principle alone, she kicks Isaias in the shin as Audrey offers him forth. Isaias yelps and tumbles to his knees, clutching at his leg- but does nothing.

"Trade? What the hell are you doing with our brother- He looks like shit." Gavriel points at Audrey in an accusing manner. However, before things escalate any further, Damon appears in a cloud of flamboyance and raconteur demeanor. His words and actions warrant immense confusion from the simple Bilica boys, but Odaya finally spits the apple out and into her hands as she looked down at the jacket now about her shoulders. Perhaps unexpectedly, the first to speak and break Damon's eccentric distraction is Isaias;

"It wasn't her." He murmurs quietly, looking up at Gavriel. "It was-" As the boy rises back to his feet he pushes Odaya back, cutting himself off by leaping away from the girl and to the safety of his three older brothers' sides. Odaya snickers as he escapes her reach, and sticks her tongue out.

"He thinks I'm a Lady. That means you idiots need to obey me, because you're just farmboys."

"As if, you little bi-" Raphael begins. Unfortunately he is not permitted to complete the thought. Passing by Damon and Audrey as if carried by a ghost, the domineering physique of Weasel Bilica suddenly appears; suddenly grabs Simeon and Raphael by their heads; suddenly bashes the two together; then swiftly shoves their heads into the apple trough. He lifts his gaze and silently appraises Gavriel- who immediately balks, nods, and steps aside. Whilst his two brothers struggle in his own powerful arms, Weasel turns his head to Isaias.

"Go on, Is. Freakshow's right, you've got shit to do."

When Weasel releases Simeon and Raphael, they surge out of the water- and somehow, despite his aggressive entrance, the social phalanx of the Bilica Family has formed instantaneously. Gone is all the overt aggression of the lesser brothers as they cower and sneer. Even Simeon and Raphael seem somehow aloof despite the bruises forming on their brows and the soaked nature of their clothes. Weasel remains kneeling and ruffles Isaias' hair, who seems to immediately brighten. Isaias looks towards Damon, and seems calmer than he did going up the mountain. He glances at Audrey- blushes faintly- then silently moves to Damon's side with a quiet nod.

Odaya sticks her tongue out at Weasel- who only seems amused, his stoic-antagonistic expression showing the mirth he allows for his little sister.

"He says I'm a Lady." She repeats.

"He says a lot of shit, 'Daya. Don't listen to any of it. He's an idiot. Just like her." He finally lifts his gaze to look at Audrey. Utter detest plain in his features- despite how truly similar they may be beneath everything.

Odaya snickers, and chimes in; "Yeah just like her!" And she now sticks her tongue out at Audrey. She then, paradoxically, waddles over and offers the apple up to Audrey. Perhaps as thanks for the rescue. Perhaps because she didn't like apples. Perhaps.