[SWE] The Feast of Bells - 320PC

Kaisel

One foot in the ground
One foot in the grave

He has just enough time upon flipping over and putting his thumb on the reason he's lying flat on his back to see the shape of Flora rising above him. "FLO—" he cries out in abject terror as he realizes he will be the only ingredient of the Flora and ground sandwich presently arranging itself. The full force of his shout is strangled out into a wheezing, flattened breath, Kaisel's lungs made to emulate a tube of toothpaste that's only got a dollop remaining.

The hammock absolutely did not greet Flora any kinder than it had him, the netting whipping up above her as the entirety of her approach is so kindly caught by his body. He'd lifted his arms up with about as much purpose as a net trying to catch wind, her momentum instead sending on flopping back to the ground above his head in a prime chalk-outline pose, and the other collapsing around her back with a noodle's constitution.

After a pause, an inquiry sparks through the bond, perhaps the only proof of life. Comfy? His mouth is still working on sipping back the air she thoroughly pushed out of him, working past the curtain of her hair and the push of her body, tilting to the side towards the closest gap like a pathetic snorkel of lips.

It's not the devil at your door
It's just your shadow on the floor

is this the end of all the endings?

The landing is not elegant, exactly, but given that Kaisel absorbs approximately 95% of the impact and Flora is wrapped in enough oversized sweater to qualify as her own throw pillow, she comes out of it remarkably intact. There’s a bounce, a jolt, and a brief avalanche of blonde curls as the hammock netting flaps uselessly somewhere above them, but when the world stops shifting she finds herself sprawled comfortably over her husband, cheeks flushed and eyes bright with the particular satisfaction of someone whose plan has worked perfectly so long as no one asks what the plan was.

For a second she stays exactly where she is, listening to the wheeze beneath her with a growing look of theatrical concern that doesn’t quite manage to hide her amusement. Then, planting her hands on either side of him, Flora pushes herself up just enough to peer down at him, her curls falling in a golden curtain around them both as her expression turns sharply skeptical, as if he has just failed some extremely important and widely understood test of husbandly strength not unlike the don't-grunt-when-you-pick-up-your-gf challenges on TikTok. "Wow," she murmurs, blinking down at him with grave disappointment. "That's a lot of noise for someone who said he was going to catch me."

At his question through the bond, her skepticism melts all at once into a smile sweet enough to be suspicious, Flora tilting her head as if giving the matter due and careful consideration. "Sure am," she says, bright and entirely shameless, making absolutely no effort to move off of him. One brow arches as her lashes flutter, her smile turning even more tempting as she settles her weight just a touch more deliberately. "Why, aren’t you?"

my broken bones are mending

Code 100% taken from the queeeeeeen herself, Sky <3

bring me your suffering
the rattle roar of broken bones

The cinnamon butter had juuuust the right amount of sweetness to coincide with the other toppings on the bread, and in all the turmoil, she slathered more on as Iskra questioned exactly what she was talking about. Brows furrowed, she gave a heavy sigh, swinging her free hand around as if to emphasize her points. “Okay, so, yeah, Ludo is missing. Mort said to ask Safrin about its whereabouts, because she’s likely to keep tabs on it.” What with their rivalry and feud…keep up Iskra. “I don’t have to call Rae, but I wondered if there was something else tying stuff together, because sometimes that happens here.” Like all the matters with the Family, or diseases in the past.

Taking another deep breath, because she hadn’t wanted to have this conversation here, she lowered her tone and stared at the food nearby, fingers snagging at a piece of cheese and layering it on a cracker, now intending to eat her feelings. Between Ludo being gone, her concern over that, the confusion and her rough explanations, she suddenly felt very wound. “So in the Peepholes there was a weird golden glow thing, and obviously a whole lot of us followed it.” As if that was the most distinct choice, instead of avoiding it altogether. “Then there was a really strange creature and it pulled some of us into sleep and I had dream about things getting swallowed and stuff.” Blinking up at him, she realized that didn’t sound much better.

the honeybee

Bring me the riot in your heart
angry, wild, and raw

The universe is full of magical things

The whites of her eyes are almost wide enough to take in every detail of the feast, her mouth slack in silent awe of the display. There are a thousand puzzles here and a million more questions unanswered. Where had it all come from? Where would it all go when they were gone? When and why had the tradition started? What led each person to pick the bell they'd brought? What was that movement under the tables?

She wants to know everything, but as Knell and her mom step closer to the array of tables laden with food, the other thoughts are eclipsed by divine scents she's never smelled before. The opening of her mouth becomes a succulent trap, sweet and savory mingling on her waiting tongue, tantalizing her with the vibrantly sharp smell of berries and the earthy tones of spices interspersed with the crisp white of snow. 

Releasing her mom's hand, Knell's smile stretches wide. "I'll get us sweets!" Then she runs off, her longer legs still a little awkward beneath the white dress brushing against them. She heads first for the collection of small, colorful desserts where so many other people are gathered. Wide blue eyes peak up over the top of the table as her tail flicks behind her, fingers torn between which to reach for first - the red truffle looking thing, the yellow mini sandwich type dessert, or the tiny fruit cake. All look delicious.

---

Knell is by the desserts!

Knell

patiently waiting for our wits to grow sharper.

When no one is around, my dear
You'll find me on my tallest tiptoes

Soh tilted her head into Zavien's kiss, humming faintly with affection as he pressed his lips to her forehead. She probably would have been fine to keep walking for a while, but now that she was seated, she had no intention of moving any time soon, settling into the plush chair with a contented sigh. "Alright," she said, smiling up at her boyfriend. "Some tea would be wonderful." Warm, soothing - perfect for the nice, calm evening she anticipated for them. "Thank you."

Zavien left her reluctantly, and Soh looked around at the festivities. Somewhere in the crowd, she spotted a head of blonde hair sprinting towards the hammocks; shaking her head, she watched as Flora dove onto Kaisel. If they looked her way, she'd offer a little wave, but more likely than not, they were wrapped up in their own little world. There were others she recognized, smiling and waving and generally offering silent greetings, but her gaze continually came back to Zavien as he wove through the crowd to the drinks and back.

Spinning in my highest heels, love
Shining just for you

Sohalia

Kaisel

One foot in the ground
One foot in the grave

The moment Flora props herself up, a full gust of breath slips in like a window being thrown open instead of just cracked. His smile sprawls out crooked and worn, the inevitable shadow cast on him by the loom of her face over his. He is freshly struck by just how much he adores her in this moment—nestled away in the shelter of her hair, pinned beneath her because she raced after him without question, features puckered with that little pout of dramatic flair and disapproval that he desperately wants to kiss directly off her face every time he sees it. He's precisely where he wants to be, the hammock totally unnecessary.

The fondness darts helplessly through the connection to her, spreading like ink that blooms near instantly across beads of water on paper. Still regaining the full shape of his lungs, he can't contain the huff of amusement that slips free at her scorn. "You thought this was what I meant by in position?" It comes out low and wispy, a rolling chuckle following on the heels of it and then a long drag of a breath being hauled in.

His other hand lifts up, slipping lightly along the side of her cheek, fingertips curling near her ear. "Completely," he responds without hesitation on the matter of his comfort, leaf still clinging stubbornly to his face as if a new spa garnish for the ritual of perfect bliss. Wrestling himself up, he reaches for that kiss he's been wanting all the while, made all the sweeter for the patience.

It's not the devil at your door
It's just your shadow on the floor

ISKRA

It doesn't sound any better, actually, no. However, it doesn't sound quite so scattered and insane, because really, anything always feels possible here given the track record of what's already occurred. He sucks in a deep breath after swallowing the ham, seeming to prepare for something major, then says, "okay."

Hearing it a second time and with a bit more detail than earlier, it feels less like he'd interrupted Melita's train of thought, which came spilling forth in response, and more like a clearer path to follow from start to end. Still windy as hell, but a path. "If you're asking Safrin and Rae, shouldn't we also ask Dygra?" He reasons, nodding towards Astaroth in the crowd. "I know he follows her closely," As it seems, most Ancients do, but that one in particular he knew at least.

Glancing back her way, he rests a hand on her shoulders, squeezing a bit. It's an attempt to imbue some comfort into her and maybe hit a tense point and coax it to relax a bit. "We'll find Ludo," he says with a low, gentle encouragement, aware that she's buzzing more than usual and now seeing why. "I'm sure of it." Spoken like a man who believes Ludo is just up to some trickery. Although the glowing in the Peepholes is strange, and he'd like to circle back to that, in time.

Never caught a feelin' this hard — harder than the liquor I pour

// with our one foot in the grave //

“Precisely.” The Butcher laughs lightly, at least until Danta’s very confident Asta will end up spilling the rich and spiced stew all over himself should he try to sit in one. He peers at Danta with mock despair, as if he’s hurt that the Maverick didn’t believe in his abilities to balance a bowl of stew on a less than perfect spot to sit. “Darling, you go in first and then I shall join you. That way if I end up wearing it, it will be all your fault.” He teases with a flick of his tail that has the ashen tip slapping gently against the back of Danta’s calf.

As for the bell, though, a low laugh leaves him and he shakes his head slightly, flashing his fiancé a roguish smirk. “If I had my way, I would not be the one holding it in the first place.” Comes the playful and sultry drawl, one soon bypassed as if he hadn’t let the jest slip while he sucks in a breath and spies the hammock they’re circling. He notices Thalassa and flashes her a sharp smile and a wave before he’s looking back to Danta and the hammock in question, half bowing toward it. “Now shall we give this a go?”

Astaroth

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

// i came from a broken home, so look at all my broken bones
count me in, but count me out, i know what this is about //

It’s definitely a challenge for Colt to get into the hammock and he watches with quiet amusement as she makes her first attempt, before she’s boldly claiming she might stand. A low laugh leaves him and a shake of his head, shifting over just a little more to try and give her enough room before she’s giving it another go. “C’mon, you can do it.” Comes the playful chiding, hanging onto his edge of the rope closest to him where it wraps around the tree.

Completely unable to hear anything with the bread gag she’s got in her mouth, Sunjata waits patiently for her to slip into the hammock, and when she finally does and he can let it start to swing a little again with the lift of one of his legs, the other tucked under him to keep his balance a bit more even with Colt having joined him. “Great job.” He praises her once her announcement is made, letting his comment shift into a warm laugh as she takes him up on the offer. “Cool. We can use the Pegasus if you don’t have a lot of things you’re bringing.” He suggests, though it’s apparent he’s up for any kind of adjustment needed to the plan.

As for the bartender and Thorn, though, Sunjata groans a little dramatically and rolls his eyes. “Oh yeah. Between us, I think the bartender likes it no matter how much he bitches about it.” He laughs, leaning in toward her like it’s a secret he doesn’t want anyone else to hear. “A little love hate thing, I think, but we’ll see how it turns out.” He snickers.

the flood

// i'm the next, so get in line
just let me have my fucking time //

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

"Oh I see," Danta says, a wicked gleam in his eye as Asta sets up the perfect opportunity to accidentally-on-purpose cover them in food (that he'll be happy to lick off the Butcher's body in front of all these fine people, don't you tempt him). "Very well, I look forward to taking the blame for what definitely won't be a lack of grace on your part." Stuffing another cracker - and a bit of meat and cheese - into his mouth before thrusting his plate into Asta's free hand, Danta is left precariously holding onto his wine as he gets into the hammock.

By some miracle he neither chokes nor spills his drink, left swinging gently and looking very smug indeed as he regards Asta, aka the one not enjoying hammock time. "If I had my way you wouldn't either," he says, holding out his hand for his plate - and yes, willing to accept the bowl of stew as well if his lover wants to surrender it while he joins him).

Dantalion

// so aim it straight and true //

bring me your suffering
the rattle roar of broken bones

The ‘okay’ left her feeling clustered and coiled, her body simmering on the mercurial edges of breaking free in some frenetic display. What that could’ve been, she hadn’t a clue; the notions of making this whole celebration now a frenzy of happenstances and ongoings since the last time they’d had the opportunity to meet felt overbearing and overwhelming. Uncertain of she should’ve been ashamed of it, her mouth snapped shut and her jaw clenched, trying to follow Iskra’s line of thought without barreling onward into the threatening evening. “I don’t know. Mort didn’t say anything about her.” Nor did she suddenly want an addition to the list – if Dygra was always truly one for chaos, would she even care? She didn’t know enough, and a thousand other questions began to mar her mind, snagging and winding it into a snapping map of contrarian dispositions. Should she have been alerting everyone, before she knew anything else?

She bit her lip and forced down another piece of bread, taking in a deep breath and trying to focus on the hands along her shoulders. But now she was restless, and her gaze went back towards the crowd, seeing Flora and Kaisel wrapped up with one another in a hammock and not wanting to disturb it. “Yeah,” she offered in a low whisper back, with a feeble nod to follow, some part determination and some part engulfed, like she hadn’t noticed the tide rushing in.

the honeybee

Bring me the riot in your heart
angry, wild, and raw

COLT

I'm homesick for somewhere that doesn't exist
For someone I'm still learning to miss
Said goodbye, wasn't ready yet
Only see you in this silhouette

Grinning like she's just conquered a fearsome beast and not a balancing act with netting and momentum, Colt dips her head in sage and gracious acceptance of her well deserved accolades. The wide shape of her mouth only proves to consume her features entirely when Sunjata settles on pegasus. She sinks her head back against the hammock, body easing into a sigh, the quality of her comfortable wilting like someone finally content after too long spent rigid. "You certainly know the way to a girl's heart, sunshine." A small laugh at the absurdity of it follows suit, well aware she likely stands alone in her deepset adoration for them. One hand contentedly flops over the side of the hammock as it rocks beneath them. "Just a rucksack with some basic needs, nothing pegasus you can't handle."

Considering the back and forth feud of the bartender and Thorn over another bite of her bread, Colt chuckles in her throat at Sunjata's equal awareness and belief of the apparent flirtation. "I'm sure he does," she says with a drawn out sound and a finishing cluck of her tongue. Attention is always nice to have, especially when it's in a handsome package like Thorn. "Let me know when one of them finally kisses the other, deal?" A commitment to gossip, no matter the distance, quietly rooting that it's the bloom of happiness for a man who deserves it. She suspects with his history though, he'll be wary, and it's a regrettable thing that past love always seems to steal bits of you away, as if devotion has a hunger that isn't satisfied by anything short of ruin.

It'd be nice to linger on the simplicity of windwild horses and budding romance, but the reason Sunjata would have to send her word of it instead of her seeing it for herself presses in now, and Colt's features shore up from humor to something more careful as she deposits the remainder of her dinner in her mouth. "I need access to your bestiary records when we get to King's End, or some point before I leave. I'm trying to find out if the nightmarish thing we fought in Hak Etme has ever appeared before, or if it's like any of the creatures we know here already."

I'm homesick for conversations I would avoid
And now I miss the sound of your voice
Now there's nothing but a shadow left
So I'll just keep on chasing shadows of you

ISKRA

"Hmm, maybe something to think about if the other results are dead ends," he considers, attention leaving Astaroth and his goddess for now. "Probably best to take it one step at a time anyhow, in case that's the only one we end up needing." He doesn't pretend to know how the divine work amidst each other, or what tempers and histories they all have with one another, but he suspects they're more human about it all than they'd admit, in which case asking for help is a thing best done carefully and one god at a time.

Melita quiets and curls in a way he doesn't recognize. A glimpse of similarity worn amid lightning storms only, but even then she'd quickly shove it off, frustration snapping her back rather than this cloistering. He doesn't mistake it for her sinking into his reassurance, the buzz still there beneath the surface. His hand squeezes again before lowering to find her hand. "Stay with me Mel," he murmurs, leaning in towards her. "You're getting quiet on me."

Never caught a feelin' this hard — harder than the liquor I pour

DEIMOS And in your darkest hour, I hold secrets flame The tables and seats woven with branches and brambles was an amusing touch, and a welcome reprieve from the potential of being tossed from a hammock. Snagging at both their plates so Erebos could rush off and claim a spot, his eyes flickered amidst the crowd again, then along to shadowy eaves and fixtures, waiting for something that might not come. Once they’d settled, especially in an area where he could see multiple surroundings at once, the calmer platitudes returned. With a long breath, his eyes narrowed, speculative and scrutinizing, gaze intending to catch a drift of golden light or some vague depiction of monsters with sand and too many eyes. Instead, he had his son next to him, talking away. With a vague laugh and a shake of his head, he opted to let the moment roll into something pleasant, rather than what his mind could concoct. “Which is your favorite? We could always snag more for leftovers at home.” master of nothing place; of recoil and grace