[SWE] bark at the moon

charlie

Charlie hears her name the way a cat hears a can of tuna being opened; instantly, violently, full-body attentive delight. She whips toward the sound with a gasp so big it could lift her off the ground, and then she darts!; one heartbeat she’s twenty paces away, the next she’s molten lace and glittering skin right at his side, practically vibrating with joy.

"Hiiiiii!!!" It bursts out of her like a champagne cork, breathless and too bright and somehow musical. Before physics can complain, she darts again—up, up, up—until she’s hovering eye-level with him, arms flung around his shoulders in a dizzy, delighted squeeze that smells like smoke, sugar, and scandal. Then she drops back to the mud-slicked ground in a swish of lace and a flick of her nail, her heels somehow not sinking at all.

Her head is already swinging toward Flora, and the scream she makes is not human. It is delighted, feral, cinematic. "OH. MY. GODS." She clutches her own cheeks. "IS THIS YOUR GIRLFRIEND???" She doesn’t wait for an answer. "She’s SO PRETTY," she gushes, tail coiling in a sugary spiral behind her.

Charlie inhales, which is dangerous, because it loads her for more. "Did you bring a change of clothes?" Her eyes sweep Flora like she’s appraising artwork and trying to buy it at auction. "Nevermind, nevermind, we can work with this, trust me, trust me—" Another inhale—"Can you dance??" She blinks, squints, and then shakes her head, waving a hand. "You LOOK like you can. And are you okay with fire? Very important. Very important for later."

But then someone in the crowd screeches her name again, and Charlie lights up like fireworks. "BRB!!" She beams up at Kaisel, pure mischief and moonlight and then she vanishes with another dart!, another puff of sex, sparkle, and uncontainable glee as she streaks off into the chaos.

devils that you know
raise worse hell than a stranger

Code blatently stolen from queen of codes, Sky!

ditch the clowns, get the crown

As Kai asks about her friends, Flora beings scanning the chaos before something familiar catches at the corner of her vision; a tall silhouette framed by the glow of a taffy stall, the striped canopy dripping rain but still bright enough to illuminate one very distinctive profile. She nudges Kai’s arm with her knuckles, chin tilting toward the booth. "I think that’s Asta over there," she murmurs, voice warm and a little triumphant. It really could be no one else—only Astaroth could make standing beside a vat of molten candy look like a dramatic portrait. "We could go over and see?"

What she gets instead is Kai planting his feet like he’s about to summon a god. Her eyes widen as he tips back with the confidence of a man who absolutely believes in the acoustic superiority of his own lungs, and then he's screaming out Charlie's name. The final vowel shreds into the downpour like a sonic boom. Flora can only blink, cup frozen halfway to her lips, her expression stuck somewhere between admiration and horrified delight. She glances around as if expecting the crowd to turn and stare, and in the firelit beat before sound seems to return to the world she thinks, Surely that didn’t—

Oh but it did, because Charlie doesn’t appear so much as detonate into existence.

Flora’s shoulders jerk up with a tiny startled squeak as lace and legs and impossible enthusiasm erupt at Kai’s side. It’s like being hit by a glitter tsunami. The priestess coils around him like a sugar-scented cyclone, and Flora freezes in place with her drink clutched to her chest, aqua eyes enormous as she takes in the impossibly tiny blonde in what is essentially lingerie dipped in moonlight.

This—this—is who Kai drew naked? Her brain tries very nobly to process that while Charlie whips around to her like a divine heat-seeking missile, turning the entirety of her focus upon Flora. Her brain hasn’t caught up enough to produce a sound before Charlie is gushing, screaming, praising, assessing, interrogating, planning wardrobe changes and possible ritual combustion, and Flora has no time to answer anything because Charlie is already gone again in a puff of sparkled, scented chaos.

The silence that follows feels like it’s been vacuum-sealed around her, before Flora slowly turns her head toward Kai, eyes still wide, lips parted in stunned disbelief. Rain spatters against her curls, caught in the leather of her corset, sliding down her cheek as if even the weather is trying to hydrate her back into functioning. "Am I....okay with fire?" she repeats, voice soft and incredulous, blinking up at him like maybe the love of her life can explain why she is suddenly being pre-screened for spontaneous combustion.

Flora

baby i'm the one to beat

I salute you if you're much too much to handle

The Blood Moon Festival is everything that Aithne could have wanted and then some.

The girl appears at the edge of the crowd, fanged grin firmly in place and a devilish gleam in her dark eyes. She surveys the festivities: everything from the performance area filled with music, the random fireworks that light the sky despite the incessant drizzle, and oooooooh, did Charlie say orgy tent?

She's dressed in a scrap of a dress, pale pink and sequined. Blood red had been a contender, but it was a little too on the nose for Aithne - and besides, bubblegum pink is much more her. Her hair is braided tightly against her scalp, ends hanging down her back. She's given up on her curls this season, given that the rain just makes her look like a drowning poodle. But even that mental image can't dampen her spirits tonight, on the night of her very first Blood Moon Festival.

Since Charlie seems to be busy dart!ing here and there, coaxing people into the chaos, Aithne leaves her be. Instead, she notes Vesper standing with a man she doesn't know and saunters over, playful smirk on her lips. "Vesperrrrr," she trills as she approaches, wiggling her fingers in a way that might have been flirtatious coming from anyone else. "Enjoying the party?" Her tail flicks lazily behind her as she glances towards Jack. Zoning in on the drink in his hand, she adds, "Ooooo, drinks!" and snags one from the vendor behind them.

Aithne

Minor powerplay allowed without permission.
Feel free to use force/magic on Aithne.

And it burns like a gin and I like it,

Having spent plenty of time fitting back into the confidence and autonomy she'd been missing for so long, the rise of the blood moon is Thal's equivalent to the breaking of dawn. Shadows fall away to make room for the brightness of blood and fire, reflected in the blue mischief of her eyes, the glint of her fangs, the tilt of her horns. She doesn't blind or crash through the party, doesn't yell or shove her presence on anyone, but she demands attention.

Brushing against the blood red leather of her jacket, dark hair falls in wet ripples down her back. Droplets fall like diamonds from their strand tips, casting a sheen across the black leather of her boots, up to the pale fingers that dance with fire, the movement hinting at how her body might move when she finally gives in to the revelry.

Her tail waves behind her, invitation in the sway of her hips and the hug of fabric against her body. It's not the provocation of flesh or scandalous clothes, but the enticement of chase that so many Ancients relish, including the sharp tang of blood and danger that come with the metal daggers strapped across her body.

In her procession through the party, Thal catches sight of Dantalion and Astaroth, shooting them a wink and moving on her way. She'll leave them up to their own chaos, content to find her own tonight as she strikes out confidently for the alcohol, like a wild animal to the watering hole, lying in wait for her meal to arrive.

Thalassa

put your lips on my skin and you might ignite it

Nova

Here's to alcohol,

Did someone say CHAOS?!

Nova bursts into the party, giggling and spinning on her heels to watch the firework explode behind her in a destructive display of color, her blonde hair strewn about like she might have been the one combusting. A few more are still clutched in her fingers, waiting patiently for her flames to strike again, igniting them into the redish glow of moonlight, but she pauses to admire her work: reds, pinks, blues, purples, and yellows breaking apart in a chain reaction that sings the beating song of chaos.

Slowing only long enough to snag at a chilled glass of something bright, Nova bounces through the crowd. Her rain jacket is white and pearlescent, practically a disco ball amongst the dark. The light catches on the stars sprinkled across her cheeks where they've fallen from the galaxies in her eyes. Ice trails behind her like starlight, glittering in a moment of frost before sinking into the mud. 

A beaming grin spreads across her face, taking in the sights and opportunity for experiences. Like, what's an 'orgy?' Is it fun? What happens if she jumps in the bonfire? Does she have to give blood? Is Dygra going to show up?

Whatever happens, Nova is ready, and she twirls through the party, embracing everything the night has to offer.

the rose-colored glasses of life.

The blood moon peeks out through a gap in the cloud cover, radiant and crimson and bathing the world below in a wash of scarlet light. It's a time for chaos and impulsivity, and it's no surprise that the presence of the bloody light starts to have an impact on certain festival goers...

Dantalion has the urge to jump through the bonfire
Aithne has the urge to spill the drink of the person nearest to her
Jack has the urge to yeet his shoes into the fire

Code blatently stolen from queen of codes, Sky!

We've got the right to live, fight to use it

Soren slipped into the festival like a shadow, unlike Aithne who bounced and sparked into the festival like a flash of lightning. The crowd pressed thick around the Everlasting Bonfire, their voices rising in waves that made the air feel electric. Soren felt the static around him and it prickled against his skin.

Dygra’s moon had returned, and the world was already bending beneath her whim. He felt the pull of the blood moon deep in his ribs even as he slipped to the drink table and moved carefully around another (Thalassa) to get his strong, dark drink.

Taking a swig, Soren’s mouth curved into a crooked, hungry smile. He stepped closer to the bonfire’s glow, eyes flicking towards Aithne and then he let his feet carry him to her.

Soren

// with our one foot in the grave //

Chaos thrums in the steady beat of the crackling fire and the cacophony of voices that rise above the rest. Charlie’s is the most notable, and as he flashes his lover his traditional shark tooth grin, he follows the nudge to spot their favorite Priestess off in the distance – her voice still the loudest, stunning beacon of their festival and her lively body encapsulating the very chaos of attire he’d expect from her on a night like tonight.

Chuckling softly as he takes her in, the butcher inclines his head in agreement. “I am sure she will manage just fine. She lives for this, no?” He asks as they reach the taffy stall and he’s already plucking a variety of different sweets to tuck away. Turning back to the Maverick at the precise time that the shot of absinthe is produced, the butcher’s eyes softening with appreciation at the dramatics of the flame that curls in a blueish hue toward the top of the liquor. “Thank you, darling.” He purrs, taking the shot glass before clinking it against Danta’s own.

“And to the blood moon.” He tacks onto Danta’s perfect toast, downing the shot with the black licorice taste and the singe of flame entirely, warmed through almost immediately like the fire’s trailed down his throat. His tail wags slightly with the delight of the taste, already reaching to snag another with a soft nudge to his lover in case he would like another one.

Astaroth

// while the other one's kicking its way right down to hell //

// you've got a passion in those eyes //

"And to the blood moon," Danta echoes, grinning and clinking his glass against Astaroth's before shooting it back, swallowing liquor and fire in one. The warmth of it erupts in his chest and throat, leaving the bittersweet tang of aniseed in its wake, and the Maverick exhales a soft breath that begs for another even as Asta is already reaching to get it for them. "Mm, you know me so well," he purrs, accepting the second shot and raising it in a toast towards Thalassa as he spots her saunter by.

It's as he sparks that one flame - doing the same for his lover's drink - that the first inklings of chaos creep up the back of his neck; turning his face to the sky to let the scarlet-washed light cascade onto his face, the smile curling at his lips is something feral and impulsive. "I'm gonna go jump in the fire," he decides, knocking back the second shot and tossing the glass over his shoulder before running to do just that.

With the addition of scorch magic to warp around his clothes to keep them from singeing, it's probably not as dangerous as it might be for someone without it, but his whoop! of delight is clear enough to ring across the proceedings as he comes out the other side, splashing into a puddle that steams with the heat of his landing.

---

Danta jumps through the bonfire!

Dantalion

// so aim it straight and true //

// with our one foot in the grave //

Downing the second shot, the butcher’s eyes trail after where Danta toasted to – realizing that he spots Thalassa in the distance. Flashing her a bright, shark-tooth grin and a nod of his head, he turns to look back at Danta when the impulse strikes him, confusion flaring in his face briefly before recalling it was essentially what the Blood Moon festival was about.

“Have fun, darling.” He calls after him, watching the shot glass sail through the air and shatter against cobblestones, before he chuckles lightly at the sight and the subsequent steam radiating from his lover. Offering a warm little cheer amongst the other voices that ring out, he leans gingerly against one of the stalls wreathed in shadows as he searches for a particular cherry taffy to gnaw on as he waits for his fire bending Theocrat to return. In the interim, he spots Flora and flashes her a wave, one extended to Kaisel in return should he look.

Astaroth

// while the other one's kicking its way right down to hell //

-Thorn-

One day, a long time ago, the courtesan might have been wholly surprised by the suggestion of venturing to the Grounds for some random festival. These days, though, with someone to tug him out and about (gladly, he might add), Thorn’s more than willing to pack a bag and trek out to yet another muddy region just for fun. At least, he hopes so, though something tells him she’s looking for a certain somebody in the mix.

Either way, the courtesan snickers a little under his breath – dressed up in a leather jacket to keep the rain from seeping in on him entirely, with a lacy nothing worn beneath it to give a bit of a view of something else. “I’ve already heard two announcements ‘bout orgies, so yeah.. I’d say so.” He whispers back with mischief, snickering again.

Snagging the drink that Colt grabs for him, he clinks his back in a little toast with her, taking a sip of the cosmopolitan and relishing in the fruitiness of it before settling – holding the glass by the stem so his hands don’t heat it up. “So, whatcha wanna do first? Or are we…” Stealthing? He seems to convey to her by the bounce of his brows.

// let's fall in love for the night //

Don't need to know where we're going

A broad, beaming grin makes its arrival alongside Charlie, jostled into a laugh beneath her grip. He doesn't relinquish his hold around Flora, so doing his very best not to spill his mojito in the force of Charlie's hug, his drink-hand loops around her in a return press of hello. It's brief, her body already sliding away, less liquor than energy drink being cracked open.

Barely registering the scandal of her attire before attention swings to Flora, he dives into that topic like he's meant for it. "YEAH!!!" he boasts, happily rising to her level of enthusiasm in a blink, undaunted by her bold measures, and rather finding that is the most appropriate response he's yet to see for someone meeting Flora. "I know right!? The prettiest!" His smile reaches into his eyes, as bright as the fireworks still scattering randomly over the sky in a blare of color and sound.

He leans in over his glass, hanging on her every word like it's gospel as she peppers Flora with questions that admittedly don't make sense but seem very important. He sips, contemplating, a delayed "bye!!!" shouting out over a strangled swallow as he tries to make it in time (and fails) before she vanishes again. His gaze turns back to Flora, 'brows rising as she seems to thaw out slowly. Can't say he's had much experience seeing her speechless. "Charlie." He announces, almost like praise for surviving. He's still not certain how he managed to after the first encounter, but she is fun.

At the question of fire, he shrugs, certain Charlie would not mistake Flora for an Ancient that could roast alive happily. "Well, you are hot," he jokes instead with a crooked grin and a laugh. "I have no idea what she's cooking up, but look, Rupert goes both ways, yeah?" Squeezing back against her with a reassuring tug, he guides them back towards the taffy stall and Astaroth waiting there, his drink hand waving back. "Maybe Astaroth will have more info."

Kaisel

It'll all make sense when we arrive

ditch the clowns, get the crown

Flora is still blinking the last of the glitter-shock out of her eyes when Kai declares Charlie like a diagnosis, benediction, and weather warning all in one. She nods—slow, wide-eyed, dazed—because honestly that’s the only appropriate response to whatever chaotic hurricane just tore through their personal space.

Her lips finally twitch as he calls her hot, the dramatics in her chest loosening enough for her to roll her eyes in a soft, affectionate arc. "Something tells me she didn’t mean it that way," she murmurs, voice smoothing back into itself, even if the edges still gleam with disbelief. There is no universe in which Charlie’s fire question was metaphorical.

But then he mentions Rupert—calm, grounding, the safe word glowing between them like a shared secret—and Flora’s whole expression shifts. The tension in her shoulders melts, warmth blooming in her chest like the bonfire has climbed inside her ribs. She stretches up in a slow, deliberate rise and presses a kiss against his cheek.

With her arm still looped in his she guides them toward the taffy stall, the scent of sugar and heat growing louder with every step. She’s just about to lift her hand in greeting when motion catches her eye—Dantalion peeling away from Astaroth ’s side with the grace of a cat and the recklessness of a man born to chaos, sprinting straight toward the Everlasting Bonfire.

Flora’s brows shoot up as the Maverick leaps straight through the flames in a splash of gold and crimson sparks. She stops mid-stride, watching him reappear on the other side like he’s been dipped in divine adrenaline. She can’t help it, her mouth curls into a crooked grin as they reach Asta at the stall. "He certainly seems to be getting into the spirit of things," she calls over to the butcher.

---

Kai and Flora are standing with Asta!

Flora

baby i'm the one to beat

VESPER

Vesper smirks in quiet agreement, the expression barely more than a shift at the corner of his mouth but carrying all the dry weight of it just the same. Kaisel’s voice rips through the crowd like someone tearing fabric, and the sharp crack of it hits Vesper’s awareness before the words even make sense. His jaw feathers, the movement small but unmistakable against the steady rain, shadows tightening at his feet like something coiling in reflex.

Jack ’s declaration earns the faintest huff from him; half amusement, half resignation. He doesn’t need alcohol the way Jack suddenly seems to, but the night is long and the noise is getting brighter by the second. "Yeah," he drawls, tipping his chin toward the stall with a lazy ease. "Could use a refill."

The words aren’t even cold in the air before Aithne appears, her energy so neon it cuts clean through the festival static. The sequined pink catches firelight and rain in equal measure, and he drags his gaze over the outfit with a slow, wry curve of brow. "Aithne," he returns, stretching the name with the same theatrical flourish she’d used for his, though softened into something smooth and deadpan in his mouth. His drink lifts by a fraction in greeting. "I bet shit’ll get even more dramatic before the night’s done."

If anything, the festival seems determined to prove him correct.

The brush of Thalassa ’s thoughts hits him like a flint strike—heat and confidence and sharpened desire—unmistakable even in a storm of minds. It drags his spine a shade straighter, shadows drawing in closer, as if instinct were a muscle tugged tight. For a breath he’s caught in the gravity of her, the wild pulse of her presence threading through the static in a way that demands attention even when he doesn't want to offer it.

But then Nova ’s mind bursts across the landscape of thought like a firework and drowns everything else in its wake. Bright, effervescent, fizzing with questions and chaos and joy, her mental signature is a comet tail streaking through the crowd, scattering frost and laughter and possibility in every direction. It floods out the sharper edges, shoving aside his hunt for Colt ’s restless cadence and the iron weight of Thalassa’s fire. For a moment, all he feels is the unmistakable gravitational pull of his sister’s arrival, brilliant enough that even the rain seems to bend around her.

---

Vesp is standing talking to Jack w/ Aithne

the stars are pulling at my hair, and every part of me
and you don't understand how I bleed

Code blatently stolen from queen of codes, Sky!