[EVENT SOCIAL] HALLOWEEN IN HARGEON!

Amalie's WC: 933

Traversing the streets of Hargeon with more than just one raised eyebrow Johann looked around, trying to spot any glimpse or hint that would lead him to her. He knew that he was late, perhaps fashionably so, sure, but late nonetheless. Amalie had undoubtedly already arrived, and so would Johann, but a mission had tied him up and required his immediate attention, the Ambassador of Dies Irae refusing to attend an official event, and of course, date like this one in bloodstained clothing, and although it only took the mage minutes to change into a costume that was more appropriate for the occasion, it had been minutes that he didn't have to spare.

His Halloween costume, as such, was relatively simple, consisting of bandages that wrapped around his entire body, although the Ambassador couldn't help himself, sporting a suit above the layer of white linen that gave completed his appearance as an arguably fashionable mummy.

That, however, still didn't help his dilemma. The Commander was still nowhere to be seen, and so, the Rune Mage had no other choice but to continue roaming the bustling streets of Heargeon with nothing but the hopes to find Amalie by sheer chance. Perhaps he could ask around, see if anyone had run into her? The woman wasn't someone to forget easily, after all.

Contemplating and lost in thought, the Ambassador barely noticed the swaths of black smoke and fog that had begun to spread out around him until it was too late, despite the bandages that covered his face and mouth unceremoniously inhaling a hearty breath of the material, causing him to cough excessively. "W-what is this?", his confused voice asked in between coughs, one hand lazily waving the strands of onyx plumes away from himself, but the damage had been done. Although not consciously, Johann's mind underwent a drastic shift, one he had gone through before, almost exactly one year ago. "Yoooo Bruh, that smoke really flexed on me hard". Talking to himself was not a habit the man would give into often. Normally, that was, at least. It seemed that, with the return of the black smoke, however, so had the Johann from last Halloween. Although, he still hadn't forgotten his goal. Find Amalie and go on a spicy date, perhaps have some drinks and a freaky night. Who knew? Joh was up for anything. He was convinced that he was a party animal, an absolute unit. Nothing and no one could stop him now. Well, except maybe-

"Amalie?", he raised an eyebrow, stopping in his tracks with a bewildered look on his face, staring down at a bench ... where the woman seemed to be asleep. Although, "woman" was wrong, in this case. She looked ... well, exactly like a child. "Yoo, Amalie, uh, not gonna lie girl, you kinda look like a baby. Uh, not in that way, you know, like a kid". She didn't react. It seemed the Commander had fallen asleep and was now in deep slumber. Johann looked around. He couldn't exactly leave her lying here like this, right? He had no idea what happened, but there was no doubt that something spooky was going on. It would probably be best to return to the guildhall for now. He picked the blue-haired girl up, placing her on his back so that she could keep sleeping while he carried her.

Although, now that he thought about it, there was one more thing he had to take care of.

It didn't take notorious party animal von Weiss long to find a stall that served drinks, shuffling his way towards the vendor with a gleeful grin that was hidden by the bandages. "Eyyy bro, I'll take one of those spooky cocktails if you don't mind", placing some jewels on the counter, the man behind it giving him a quick nod. "Coming right up!". It didn't take long for the other to present the Ambassador with a long cocktail glass, an ominously orange liquid that sparkled mysteriously swirling around inside. "Thanks bro". He went to take the glass, the guy behind the counter shooting him a quick grin. "Had a long day, huh. How old's your daughter?". Johann, of course, was more confused than anything by the remark, until he realized the man was talking about Amalie, who he was still carrying. "Oh, nah bro, she ain't my daughter, she's my girlfriend". The vendor's expression slowly twisted from a grin into one of horror. "Oh, uh, nah bro, it ain't like that. She's, like, totally legal ... bro".

The man opened his mouth, looking as if he was gonna say something, although closed it again, his eyes gaining a certain, stern glint to them. "What did you say your name was again?". No,nononono. The dude had gotten the wrong idea. Completely wrong. "Uh, good talk bro but I, uh, gotta gooooo". The Ambassador unceremoniously turned around, taking off with the sleeping child version of Amalie on his back. He was glad his face was covered by his costume, horrified of the thought about people getting the wrong impression. He'd even left his cocktail standing there. What a shame ...

Anyway, he had to get back to the guild as quickly as possible to make sure no further incidents like this one would occur ...

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Word Count: 884

WC: 501 Tag: @Dela

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The black powdery mass, falling upon the heads of the unprepared, dusted her hair to the bridge of her nose and extended itself past  that point almost curiously. With a final glance at the traveling crowd of cheerful spectators, she surprised herself with a sneeze and sauntered over to where might have been blessed by a sign.  Vera Jayne did not have a high opinion when it came to carnivals, festivals and typically large gatherings. Miserable as they often made her feel, she had already learned that resistance was never truly on her side, but this basic, crucial necessity fashioned a hasty shift in her paradigm, and through the obduracy that denied the anchorite possible enjoyment came in like a bolt out of the blue.

To reconcile her strong dislike of anything atrociously loud and full of people to the natural obligation of emptying her pestiferous bladder bothered her and reminded her that everything was out to get her, even the scraggly street cat with little wheels for paws. The feline didn’t move very much which led her to summarise it as a disturbing projection from within and moved past the presence of the visitant as she seemed heavily inclined to doing whenever she sustained such visions. But what flustered her more than the sacred potty dance was the frilly dress that took the place of her signature red bowtie, white collared shirt and jet black slacks.

Anyone would have thought it best to inform Vera of the new set of wings that quickly sprouted from the wholesomely fresh ensemble’s spine, though many brave venturers were thrown on their backs by the sheer force of her large, feathery limbs crashing into them and not a soul could utter a protest, especially if she felt the need to just turn around. She looked everywhere in a state of confusion, and after a few more unlucky individuals had fallen an uncomfortable swelling poked at the frills of her ripping attire. Her puffy sleeves tore at the seams along with everything else, leaving the lower half of her dress to cover her private bits. The weather had been rather cool in recent weeks, but it should not have promoted in her the same level of sensitivity she only often experienced when she was bare and ready for a nice warm bath unless --

“Who did this?  Don’t you dare look at me, I’m indecent and vulnerable!” Vera shrieked, blushing a deep red, adjacent to a backdrop of horrified eyes and gaping mouths. She crossed her arms over her chest and whatever tears she might have shed for her exposure stopped. Where were her breasts? She dropped her arms and sagged her shoulders, realizing that her eyes weren’t the only organs bulging so strongly from the shock. She numbly reached for the top of her makeshift skirt, tugged it open just a little, and paused to rethink investigating the strange growth. She took a deep relaxing breath and finally addressed the bodily issue, having identified it as a long forgotten sight for sore eyes.

“Gag me with a spoon, I have a di-”  Vera failed to complete his cry of dismay, for two other men shared the sentiment. “Is that my voice? Is,” he reached for his neck, “that my voice? I’m not freaking out. Are you freaking out?”

He neared the blonde and the brunette, cackling loudly and wildly, as he walked like a cowboy with a full-blown wedgie.  

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