[Seasonal Event] Table for one, please

B o R N the writing becomes jagged, frenzied, childish. The curtains flail, cushions are thrown, and in the kitchen, the cabinets start banging wildly. A wave of voices suddenly curdles to the surface as the dust on the floor spins in a controlled tornado around the room. Within Wessex might catch flashes of teeth, of eye-less faces, of clumps of hair and discarded toes. "REBORN." They scream, they question, they accuse. "REBORN?????????" LONGNIGHT