Antlers
Estylwen
FernStone
NoriWasHere
TokyoPewPew
Framing A Moose
Cao the Exiled
Raijinslayer
Mixtape Ghost N
AtomicEmperor
Near Cracker IslandThe waves hit the shore…
Following the coordinates that Ruby put out (that Naomi thought was a bad idea given the shitshow that was a week ago), Naomi and James pushed through the foliage until they made it to the clearing in the middle. A few members of Greenwood were already there… Jess was there wearing a cowboy outfit, with her grandfather’s little leather hat that she had as her channeler on her head. Kashmira was there wearing an orange Saree, hands together that were painted with henna. Pearl was dressed as a Jiangshi by painting her skin. Most notably… Autumn was dressed as Didi Pickles, pushing a large stroller with a blanket in front of it.
“Heh, nice costumes, ya’ll,” James said as he walked up… he and Naomi were dressed up in Adidas tracksuits with a black fedoras and comically large gold chains… but James had his axe in hand.
“Why, thank you,” Kashmira said, “It’s not much of a costume, but…”
“To the white people, it is,” James chuckled, then he turned to Autumn. “And oooh boy, fuckin’... Didi Pickles?” He laughed.
“It’s so we can put your axe and Sully’s cup in here,” Autumn answered.
“What do you think is gonna happen?” James raised Shango’s Axe in the air. “We gonna start another gang war?”
“Ruby thinks we should be prepared just in case… we did get outed, after all,” Autumn said.
“Good point, good point,” James said as he slung the axe over his shoulder. “Where is Ruby anyway?”
“She said “she had business” to attend to,” Jess said, finger-quoting. “She’ll catch up.”
“So, are we gonna hop on the Ferry, or is Amelia gonna teleport us there?” James asked.
“Amelia… when she gets here,” Pearl answered.
“Is Sully coming?” James asked,
“From what I heard, yes,” Autumn answered before she shrugged, “I guess we just wait.”
That was when Naomi pulled a blunt out of her pocket and grinned.
“Let’s spark up before the Ass-Eater gets here!”
“Too late! You’re busted, buddy!” bellowed a deep, disembodied voice.
The bushes shook violently as a silhouette moved behind them, the figure large enough to be the fabled sasquatch, accompanied by a quiet string of curses as they struggled to break through the natural barrier of the brush. The figure finally broke through and revealed himself not to be the world’s most outgoing bigfoot but rather just a large man wearing worn-in dress shoes, a pair of dark slacks, a loose-fitting suit jacket, and a white button-up shirt and a black tie that appeared to have been tied by a toddler. Lines of golden tape were wrapped around the wrists of the jacket. The man was sporting a neatly trimmed mustache, the razor burn still fresh on his neck, and he gave the group a shit-eating grin as he adjusted the nametag pinned to his jacket that read Sully.
The Chalice, of course, was accompanying him, although it was currently acting as a hat stand for his airline pilot cap. Sully snatched the cap and, with a needlessly theatrical flourish, donned it and put the final touches on his costume.
“Ta-da. Pretty good, huh?!” said Sully, rubbing his upper lip. “But….be real, the mustache doesn’t give off molesty vibes, does it?”
“Nice,” Naomi chuckled, as she tried to sneakily put the blunt back before Sully put ass on it.
“Y’know, I don’t think the mustache is bad,” James said as he slung his axe over both of his shoulders, “But, you look weird as fuck without a beard, y’know?”
James chuckled.
“Me? Beard or no beard, I’m a pretty boy, hehehehe!” James laughed.
“Oh, lord,” Naomi said with a roll of her eyes.
“You two, put your Agents in here,” Autumn said as she threw the blanket over the stroller.
“Two seconds,” said Sully as he took a chug from the Chalice before casually tossing it into the stroller. He wasn’t going to get fleeced out of fifteen dollars at the festival for a badly poured Miller Lite. “Don’t let that baby out of your sight.”
Then James put his axe in the stroller and Autumn threw the cover right back over it. She still had her necklace around her neck.
“Yeah, Rubes is real scared that a gang war is gonna break out the one time the cops are gonna be crawling all over something that’s not a donut shop or a minority,” Jessica said, rolling her eyes and shaking her head… then she chuckled.
“Okay, so if we see a group of people finger snapping and dancing around with knives we beat feet,” said Sully with a laugh, doubting that there would actually be any conflict at the Halloween Festival. What kind of assholes would want to ruin something like that?
His phone chimed as he got a text message. Sully had felt so guilty about ignoring Auri regarding his well-being, especially after she’d dropped the bombshell on him about their dead friends (he’d remembered the phone call, but not the night), that he made sure to keep his phone charged and to check in with her every morning—even if it meant having to come up with excuses for missing the funerals rather than admitting that they just made him too uncomfortable. However, ever since that dream the damn thing had been getting blown up. This time it was just spam. He swiped it away as a lightbulb turned on in his head.
“You know, I got a way we don’t have to worry about the police if shit does pop off. If you roll with one of theirs the others will leave you alone,” said Sully, rubbing his chin. Cops were essentially like a gang in that way. “Drake, an old high school slash Sycamore buddy of mine is on the force—but he’s cool, really!” Sully waved his hands frantically as if trying to preemptively slap off the accusations of being a narc. Unaware of the events from last week, Sully added, “He’s not the punch-a-minority type at all!”
“But honestly, he’s been texting me and I get the vibe that he needs to be around people. He’s had a real rough go at it lately,” said Sully. “I’d feel like a real dick if I didn’t hang out with him tonight. Cool if I invite him?”
Jess put her hands behind her head as she looked at Sully and shrugged, “I mean, if he’s a friend of yours, he’s a friend of ours!”
“He gotta pass the vibecheck first!” James clapped his hands together, a devious grin’s on his face.
“Yeah, we gotta see if he’s chill like us!” Naomi said.
“I mean,” Autumn began. “If the others are okay with it, I am.”
“Heck yeah!” Sully pumped his fist. He decided it was best to keep to himself that he wanted to keep Drake in his sights to make sure he wasn’t going to do something reckless. He was ninety-five percent sure that text had just been a joke, but just in case he wanted Drake to be under his responsible adult supervision. “Yeah, we can totally jump him in. Hold on, lemme give him a call.”
Sully stepped a couple feet away from the group and called Drake, “Hey bay-bay. I’m about to head to the festival with some folks. You wanna just roll together instead of trying to find each other in the crowd, man?”
”We can, but I’m on the ferry right now with Victoria, Amanda, and Nikki!" Drake began, "Wait, what costume are you rolling in? We could have been matching!"
“Shit dude maybe it ain’t too late. I’m going as Sully,” said Sully, not realizing that the bit didn’t land without the visual and even then it was milquetoast at best. Hearing that Drake was with people took a little of the edge off. “What are you going as?” he asked, putting his hand over the receiver as he loudly whispered to the Greenwood Coven. “He’s in. We’re coordinating.”
Naomi raised a thumb as Drake answered with an obnoxious yell:
”I’m goin as ZOOOOOOOOOS!”
Sully ripped the phone away from his ear in pain, only putting it back as Drake stopped yelling. “Like caged elephants and lions and shit? That sounds complicated.”
”Naw, I just got this toga, these sandals, a fake beard and white hair, and I’m Gucci!” Drake answered.
“Oh right. I could make that work,” said Sully, looking around at nothing but trees and shrubs. “Anyway, being the Chosen One I no longer take public transportation. Exclusively teleportation from here on out. Y’all choose a meeting place and my crew will swing by. See you soon, bro.”
Sully hung up the phone and turned to the members of Greenwood, “Anybody got a white sheet?”
“What? You’re going as a Klan Me-” James said with a shit-eating grin, before he got jabbed by Naomi’s elbow.
“Cut it out,” Naomi said.
“Oh, is that a bad idea?” said Sully, sharing the shit-eating grin. “I figured since it’s on Cracker Island…”
The bushes rustled, and everyone’s eyes were brought there as they hoped it wasn’t an intruder. However, it was none other than Amelia Taylor Dallon, wearing blue jeans tucked into cowboy boots and a black long-sleeve button-up shirt…
… With cat ears on.
“Yooooooooooo!” James shouted, “Don’t tell me that’s your fucking costume?”
Amelia nodded, “Yes.”
“Putting cat ears over regular ass clothes is not a costume,”
“Yes it is.”
“I mean, technically, I’m not wearing a costume,” Kashmira added.
“It’s different, tho,” Jessica said.
“How so?” Kashmira said.
“Because there’s nothing wrong with not wearing a costume,” said Sully. “But calling just cat ears a costume just feels…I dunno, man. It feels like a copout. Some people here shaved their beard for this—like Jess. What’s the actual costume supposed to be? Person who forgot it was Halloween until ten minutes before they were supposed to go to the party?”
That’s what I’m saying!” Jess said as she reached down for her fake revolvers, “I’m the last cowboy in this town, ya’ll!”
“I’m a lil’ kitty!” Amelia said, not realizing the full implication of what she just fucking said, “I mean, you two are no event wearing costumes either!” Amelia shot back.
“Hold on; I expected ya’ll not to get it!” Naomi laughed, “But ever hear of Run-DMC?” Then she gestured downwards.
“No,” Amelia responded.
“Of course you wouldn’t!” Naomi said, “Ain’t your girlfriend dressing up as a Mo-”
“Oh, hold on, everyone!” James raised his hands to accentuate his point, “We are getting off track here. We’re supposed to be teleporting to the island since, APPARENTLY hopping on a ferry is too good for us.”
He let the words hang in the air as he looked around, with his hands up.
“... So, let’s fucking get to the island already and get lit!”
Everyone cheered… and without further ado, a wind was summoned that carried leaves and the Greenwood Coven were teleported to Cracker Island.
Nikki Watanabe, Amanda, & Victoria Blackmore
The Halloween Festival, Docks to Festival Market.Drake scratched his “beard”.
As part of this costume that Victoria made for him he had a wig and a fake beard that had that weird plant-crown thing. Drake had a toga on; naturally, Victoria wanted it to cover his whole chest, but Drake ain’t going to the gym for nothing! He let the left side hang and revealed his fucking dinner plate pecs! His costume.
He was Zeus.
Drake went over to the edge of the ferry and hung his head off it, getting barraged by the winds as he got closer and closer to Cracker Island! A funny ass name if he said so himself. However, he looked back at his sisters (and cousin), and the rest of them were dressed up as other Greek Gods. Victoria dressed up as Athena, Amanda dressed up as Artemis, Nikki dressed up as Hestia… and the Blackmore Triplets dressed up as Cerebus, one big dog costume. It was pretty goofy, but this was the first time Drake had attended the Halloween Festival in years since that was for kids! The boat docked and the Blackmores got off the boat, with Victoria pushing the stroller with her triplets.
“So…” Amanda said as she skipped. “Where are your friends at?”
“Shit, I gotta call Sully,” Drake said.
“While I do want to have that talk…” Victoria trailed off, “I’m not going to have the triplets around while you all drink.”
“It’s cool…” Drake went through his contacts until he found Sully’s, and hit call…
…and a phone rang from behind Drake as Sully struck, wrapping his arms around Drake’s chest from behind and began lifting him in a bear hug.
“ZOOOOOOOOOS MY BOY! HA HA!” yelled Sully, a pained grunt escaping from his mouth as he felt his muscles rebel against the deadlift. He spun Drake around and exchanged with him the classic handshake that gets pulled into a hug, the universal sign of true bros everywhere. “Goddamn Drake you committed to the costume. You’re sculpted out of solid fucking marble man!”
It was at that moment Sully noticed the rest of the Blackmores, including the children. He pulled at the color of his button up and grimaced, acting before he could get chastised, “Oh, sorry Vic. Good to see you and the kiddos.”
“Hold on, lemme introduce everybody. This is Drake, Amanda, Victoria, and Nikki. And this is,” Sully stumbled over his words as he turned as he realized introducing them all as Greenwood was a bad, stupid, dumb idea. He gestured broadly at whatever members of the Greenwood Coven had followed behind him, “Uhhhh, this is everybody!”
“... THE GANG!” Jessica shouted.
“I’m James,” He said with a shit-eating grin.
“Naomi,” She said as she hugged him.
“Pearl,”
“Autumn,”
“Kashmira Sarai!”
“I’m the rootinus tootinus Jessica Rosefey!” She hopped over and extended a hand to Drake. “It's great to meet ya’!”
Drake looked down at her hand, then grinned.
“... Colorful group of friends you got here, Sully,” Drake said as he shook her hand.
“We’re missing the “leader” of our friend group, Rubes,” Jess said.
“She probably forgot to come!” James shouted.
“She said she’ll be her-”
“...Are those cat ears?!” Drake shouted. “And are you two wearing fedoras!?”
“Run-DMC…” Naomi facepalmed, “Ever heard of ‘em?”
Sully had shifted over to Autumn and was quite obvious as attempted to quietly dig through her stroller, nearly cutting his hand on James’s axe. He shoved something under his jacket and rejoined Drake by his side, loudly whispering to his friend as he winked at Naomi, “They’re Aerosmith’s backup singers. Now we can wait for Ruby to join us if we want or leave her a trail of breadcrumbs if we don’t, but first we should be mature, fiscally responsible adults.”
Sully pulled his hand out of his jacket, revealing the Chalice of their dreams, and threw his other arm around Drake’s shoulder. “Let’s pregame! Just one drink, I swear.”
“TOGA! TOGA! TOGA!”
One drink had become many. Two clearly drunk men stumbled their way through crowds surrounding the vendors, unbothered by the continuing rain or how they had gotten separated from the rest of their group. Red wine splashed from Sully’s Chalice as he pumped it up and down in the air with their chanting. Drake was still dressed like Zeus but at some point Sully had traded out his pilot costume and ascended Mt. Olympus for a toga of his own, anointing himself as the avatar of Dionysus. However, this Dionysus had gotten his pilot’s license, because Sully still wore the cap. The two had the brilliant idea to turn the Halloween Festival into a toga party, partially inspired by everyone’s inability to lay off Amelia for not wearing an actual costume. They were now on an extremely important mission. Their goal? Secure more togas.
If there was anywhere to find an abundance of white sheets large enough to cover a body, it had to be on Cracker Island.
“TOGA! TOGA! TOGA!”
The parading Parthenon party proceeded to bless the various stalls with their presence, empowered by the hands and voices raised at them in prayer and most certainly not anger or annoyance. Blitzed and bumbling, the bros were blissfully unaware that they were about to cross their paths with a sister of Scylla and a worshiper of Artemis. Blending her way through the crowds and the stalls was a young woman in a black channeling the spirit of an executioner: hood up, face covered. She stalked, shifted, and shoved her way closer to her destination, her mind so focused on the onetrack ahead of her that everything around her darkened as she tunneled oneward. She was locked in; a storm cloud chasing a murder of crows.
“TOGA! TOGA! TO-GYAH!!”
Sully and Vashti collided together, their two very important missions pulled to a grinding halt by a chance and literal run-in outside of Auri’s shuttered stall that knocked both of them down. Vashti was the first up, back to her feet with a lightning fast kip-up, eyes wild, fingers tensed back and ready to strike down the sudden assailant. Sully was much slower, content to take the moment on his back as he caught his breath and stared in amazement at the Chalice he still held above him, shocked by how none of the wine had spilled, forgetting that Drake and him had already drank the last fill. Sully managed to sit himself up, hoping that he didn’t soil the back of his toga with any mud, and found the Unabomber burning a hole through his skull. He only recognized Vashti when she pulled her shawl down. From the rumors he’d heard, he would’ve preferred that it had been the Unabomber.
“Hey, bro,” said Vashti as she squatted down and got eye level. “You seen Lila?”
“Uh, hey, uh, no,” said Sully, noting her intenseness even through his own drunkenness. She looked like she was ready to rip his head off. In times like these, there was only one solution. A splash of blood red wine slopped over the rim of the Chalice as Sully’s hand shook. “Want a drink?”
A frenzied look crossed Vashti’s face as her lips cracked and peeled apart, tongue scraping against her teeth as it tasted the wet air, her hand slicing through the air with swiftness and precision. Sully closed his eyes tight, his breathing stilled and his knuckles white.
The world went dark.
The rain stopped.
The clouds dispersed.
The sun had set.
The stars aligned.
“Toga, toga, toga!”
A conga line had formed: Sully, Drake, and Vashti. The hoodie had been ditched for a fresh, crisp toga that revealed old scars, new bruises, and detailed tattoos on Vashti’s arms of sea monsters, storms, and witches burning at the stake. She took a swig of the Chalice, the warmth of the wine melting her ice cold blood, and passed it back up the line, taking the opportunity to “accidentally” press up against Drake. For now, what Lila had coming her way was nothing more than a thought struggling to swim in the cesspool of Vashti’s mind. Thirsty glances at Drake’s physique and the feel-good buzz of alcohol that counteracted whatever else had run its course in her system helped to hold down the thoughts of Lila’s doom until the bubbles stopped coming to the surface, free of the violent thoughts until they bloated and bobbed back up to the surface like they always did regardless of how many stones she put in their pockets or cement blocks she tied to their limbs.
Vashti smiled.
“Toga, toga, toga!”
In the blink of an eye, the conga line began to reek of marijuana as another guest added on, grabbing onto the back of Vashti’s shoulders was none other than Ruby White. Also drunk off her tits and high as a kite, she had a toga of her own on, but it was unknown if that was her costume or she saw the conga line and decided to change attire (though with Ruby it could be one or the other).
“Toga, toga, toga!”
It was all fun and games…
“... Vashti.”
… Until the party pooper came.
Emily G. Reed, in fresh dragon pajamas after getting literally shit on and bombed. She had her fists on her hip as the disappointment on her face could be sensed by a blind man!
“... Where the hell were you?” Emily asked, tilting her head. “Those sluts beat me up!”
Vashti broke free of the toga line.
“I said I’ll handle it, Emily. Look!” she jerked her head towards Drake. “I’m trying to get that slut over there to beat me up, too. You know what they say: when the goalie’s six feet under you’re basically guaranteed to score. So come on dude, don’t cockblock me okay, geez!”
Then Vashti grabbed Emily’s wrist and began pulling her to join the line as she shouted, “Sully!! TOGA!!!”
“Wha- no!” Emily shook her head, before she looked at Drake, baring teeth as she stomped on the ground. “... BLACKMORE!”
“... Drake,” he said, flipping his fake wig. “Drake Blackmore. You forget there are like five... No, like seven. Seven of us.”
“Your slutty frie-”
A shadow loomed over Emily as Sully tossed a balled-up blanket her way, and it hit her directly in the face - unfurling somewhat as it draped down both sides of her. She was awestruck as she took a moment to pull the cloth off her and hold it in both hands. As she looked up at Vashti,
“Okay, I got the fuckin’ dragon pajamas Miranda got me to wear, but there is no way I am…”
Emily sighed. Wearing this stupid toga over her dragon costume, making her look even stupider.
“... Toga, toga… toga…” Emily muttered while in the conga line, doing this idiotic dance.
“... Please kill me.”
