2021-10-31 - Beggar's Night
The streets are wreathed in shadows, lit only by flickering, faded yellow street lamps. The sound of laughter echoes in the air, and child-shaped forms, covered in costumes and masks - probably masks - as they run from house to house, demanding their tribute.
It's Halloween. It's Gray Harbor. Good luck out there.
IC Date: 2021-10-31
OOC Date: 2020-10-31
Location: The Streets of Gray Harbor?
Related Scenes: 2021-11-03 - TBD
Plot: None
Scene Number: 6068
It's late on Halloween Night. Later than most trick-or-treating typically runs, but that's never stopped Gray Harbor's children from getting every single piece of candy that can be wrung out of indulgent adults, so many neighborhoods still have packs of children running from house to house, shouting, "Trick or Treat!" Their costumes vary wildly; the kids from the trailer park and Elm can be easily picked out by their convenience-store masks and home-stitched costumes, while kids from the wealthier neighborhoods are done up in elaborate makeup, with professional quality costumes - and the biggest bags. A few of the roaming packs of children are much taller and broader than the others; teenagers, who have decided that it's Cool to trick or treat one last time. But it's Not Cool to spend too much time on a costume, so these packs are usually just masked, with little to no attempt to wear a costume. Those who refuse the teenagers often find their houses egged or toilet-papered before the morning comes.
The weather is cold, but clear. The blue moon hangs overhead, ripe and full, the face there grinning its cold, white grin on the town streets. Thousands of stars twinkle around it; maybe it's in deference to the holiday, but the streets seem darker tonight, letting so many more stars out to play.
It's somewhat unusual to see trick or treaters here, in this area. For some reason, most parents dislike taking their kids around dark streets that are often filled with drunk lumber workers and the homeless - not to mention the men and women who like to prey on both populations. But maybe the kids have been hard up this year, with everyone scrambling to recover from the hurricane, because as people step out into the night as the HOPE party wears down, they can hear, in the distance, the sound of giggling children, and occasional cries of "Trick or treat! Trick or treat!"
The kids can't be seen yet, but it sounds like they're making the rounds of a few of the small, cheap apartments wedged in with the broken down old liquor stores and other buildings.
Isi round a corner with a shaking head, mutteringly semi-angerly about cultural appropriation and other general ill-will towards the Holiday itself. She isn't in any kind of costume, but she's going ~somewhere~ because her hair is done up and she's wearing heels. Not extreme ones, just an inch, and she's got a tight fitting dress on. She's not about to head into the forest.
Who's complaining about starlight nights on the last day of October? Not Ravn Abildgaard -- he's from a country where being able to see the sky at all at this time of year is considered lucky. It would be an exaggeration to say that it rains in Denmark from November 1 to May 1; there's usually a couple of weeks' worth of frost in February.
The Dane pulls the collar of his leather jacket up around his ears. "Kind of late for kids to be out, isn't it?"
He's not a parent, nor an American. This might be normal. For all he knows it's normal. Look, his previous experiences with Halloween in the US boils down to Vic Grey drunkenly falling into his bed naked at 3am, thinking it was hers.
Still done up like the Mistress of the Dark, complete with stiletto heels and bouffant hair... and a prosthetic breastplate to enhance her... more petite frame... Perdita steps out with Ravn and smiles, "Parents tend to be a little more lenient on holidays that involve free calories from strangers. Which I realize now is an odd way to describe it, but... if the shoe fits, right?"
Free calories from strangers are the best calories for children. Everyone knows that.
As Perdita and Ravn talk, and Isi makes her way down the street, a gaggle of children bursts out of a side street, laughing. They're swinging bags likely half full of candy, and certainly half full of SOMETHING, their faces concealed behind masks. These kids are really into the holiday, because their masks are elaborate things of grotesque detail. No Avengers or tiny Donald Trumps here: ragged werewolves have lolling mouths filled with teeth and large, felt tongues hanging out; alongside twisted-faced witches and stitched together monstrosities. They run up to Isi, surrounding the nicely dressed woman who does NOT look into the holiday at all, and lift their bags, chanting, "Trick or Treat! TRICK OR TREAT!"
"Oh fuck no," Isi replies, raising her hands above her head as the children converge on her. "I have no candy for you -aren't you suppose to go knock on doors or something?! Not on people - where the hell are your parents?"
Isi is the stranger who teaches kids to swear, just ask Ted.
"Oh, bloody hell, we should have brought whatever's left," Ravn murmurs and quickens his pace, nudging Perdita along. He knows that woman -- and while she's dressed up rather finer than usual, he also knows he better go rescue those kids from her, preferably before she's taught each of them a whole string of new exciting swears. Just ask Ted the Toddler, indeed. Or rather, ask his mum -- if you've got the time.
He approaches the group and really, really hopes those are masks. "Nice getups," the folklorist calls out. "Didn't see you lot at the HOPE centre, you should have swung by. Sweet Retreats handed out ice cream like -- well, ice cream." Look, it's hard to come up with a metaphor when you're staring at a goblin and really, really hoping it's not a goblin.
"Wow, guys, those costumes are pretty amazing! Love the work you've put into them!" Dita glances at Ravn, not... quite seeing something weird going on the way he might, yet. But, then, she's newer to town, and her experiences with supernatural things have been confined to Dreams and, well, Baba Yaga... who at least pretends to be mostly harmless. She glances up at Isi, quirking an eyebrow. "Let me guess... Bev from Accounting, right?" she winks at the other woman, glancing back down at the... kids.
<FS3> Isi rolls Awareness: Good Success (8 7 6 4 3) (Rolled by: Alexander)
<FS3> Ravn rolls Awareness-1: Good Success (8 8 6 2) (Rolled by: Alexander)
<FS3> Perdita rolls Awareness-1: Failure (5 2 1) (Rolled by: Alexander)
The kids don't recoil or start laughing and joking as many kids do when confronted with Adult Language. Instead, little hands reach out for Isi, pushing against her as they continue to shout, "Trick or Treat! Trick or Treat!" And indeed, there don't seem to be any parents around at all, even though there must be at least a dozen kids here, all getting steadily more agitated. In addition, Isi is definitely going to notice that some of those adorable little hands are leaving stains on her dress.
Dark, tacky stains. Maybe melted chocolate? Ravn also notices this, but Perdita, perhaps because she doesn't have quite the height advantage that the Dane does, just sees the grasping, pushing little hands. Slowly, a couple of the kids at the edge of the circle surrounding Isi turn their heads towards Ravn when he starts to talk to them. Eyes gleam somewhere in the depths of their masks, and one says, in an oddly deep voice for a child, "You gotta give us a treat. Its the rule. Or else we get to play a trick."
"Fuck, I don't ever buy nice shit and you fuck." Isi doesn't quite smack the kid's hands away, but she does try to brush the stains off of her clothing. Only to have them come away sticky. She's pretty naturally tawny-skinned and so it takes her a second to realize what she's touching. "Are you kidding me?! THIS SHIT DOESN'T COME OFF!" A small sniff has her eyes widening, "IS THIS SHIT REAL DID YOU LITTLE SHITS KILL SOMEONE?!"
Somewhere at the back of Ravn's mind is a list of things you should never leave the house without in Gray Harbor, based on his... experiences. It includes a firearm, a first aid kit, a bullet proof vest, a torch, a tent, and now also a bag of licorice. Of course he didn't bring any leftover candy. He doesn't even like candy.
"I don't suppose either of you ladies are carrying a roll of Polo Mints or something," he murmurs -- because of course they don't. That'd be too easy.
"... Ravn, have you seen this dress? Do you think I have anywhere to hide candy? I've got my lockpicks tucked in my belt, but otherwise I'm flat busted." Perdita pats herself down, just to make SURE she didn't... accidentally smuggle some candy somewhere, but... Nothing. she pauses, then glances back to Isi and sighs. "Are we about to get mauled by pre-teens? We're about to get mauled by pre-teens."
At Isi's shouted question, the children stop grabbing her. They look up at her, those blank mask faces turned upwards to the moonlight and streetlamp, their eyes hollow pits of shadows.
And they giggle. Not quite in unison, but it's like the exact same giggle, just repeated twelve times not exactly in sync. The kids start to flow out from their tight circle around Isi to start and box in Perdita and Ravn as well. But there are more of them now, smaller ones who all have the same sort of mask - bone white, with black slits for the eyes, but otherwise featureless and blank. The new kids aren't holding candy bags, either.
Some of them are holding long lengths of stained rope. Others are holding knives that gleam under the light of the moon.
So... yes. That's a yes. Isi is taking their actions as 'yes, they killed someone, and next on the menu are Ravn and Perdita.' Muttering what are probably a series of swears Isi reaches down to take off her heels. If crap is about to go down she wants to be able to run. Unlike Ravn and Perdita, she's not able to do that in heels.
Ravn winces. He's a folklorist. He sees where this is going, and he doesn't like it. Time to grasp at every damn straw in the well. "I don't suppose you kids will take money as a treat? Or hold up a minute or three while I go fetch what's left at HOPE?"
He doesn't sound like he expects this to work, either. Scanning the surroundings for a quick exit, for other adults, anything at all -- and not expecting to find anything because that's not how the story goes. It's never how the story goes.
"Ravn, they have knives. Those little bastards have knives and ropes and I'll be damned if I let them mess up my best Halloween costume to date." She pulls the tiny dagger on her belt and holds it out in front of her, threateningly. Or... as threateningly as anyone can wield a tiny jeweled dagger. If that thing's real, it's still not going to do a LOT of damage. "If you're just normal kids, you better knock this shit off because Auntie Perdita is about to cut you." She takes a step backward, still surprisingly NOT yeeting off her heels. Running on concrete barefoot vs. running wearing comfortable designer shoes.
They are on an open street - it seems deserted for this time of night, but the Pourhouse and HOPE are right there, not to mention alleyways. How hard could it be to push aside some kids and run for it? The kid with the deep voice - a voice that picks up a bit of a throat growl to it - says, "You don't have treats. So we get to play tricks. That's the rule." That giggle passes around the circle again.
When Perdita steps forward with the knife, the kids closest to her slide away, still giggling. But the kids flanking all three of the adults, the small ones with the ropes, are darting forwards, trying to loop their ropes around their legs and tie them tight.
<FS3> Ravn rolls Melee-1: Failure (5) (Rolled by: Ravn)
<FS3> Isi rolls Athletics-1: Failure (4 2 1 1) (Rolled by: Isi)
<FS3> Perdita rolls Athletics-1: Failure (3 3 3 2 2 1) (Rolled by: Perdita)
"Oh hhhhheeelllll no." Isi proclaims, dancing back a couple steps before getting ensnared. It's fine. She's just going to throw her shoes at the little jerks as hard as she can. "RAVN THIS IS ALL YOUR FAULT."
<FS3> Isi rolls Athletics-1: Success (7 6 2 1) (Rolled by: Isi)
"You always say it's my fault." Ravn doesn't look -- or sound -- very surprised, whether at Isi's quick assigning the blame or at finding his feet snared by the rope. He's got crappy legwork. He knows this. He gets reminded in Kelly's boxing gym often enough. "Bloody hell!"
Well, if Isi's going to throw her shoes away like that, he's going to try to grab one. Because as far as improvised weapons go, that's all there is.
"Listen here, you little shits, I don't have a maternal instinct in my entire body, so if you don't back the hell off right now I'm going to shove my Louboutins so far up your ass you need a colonosc-OW!" Dita dances sideways as one of the little bastards cuts her exposed thigh, finding herself suddenly surrounded by them on all sides, tangled up in the rope of another one.
The scream Perdita unleashes would make a banshee proud, but, while it hurts the ears, it's not like she has a sonic scream, or anything. Sadly. However, there's probably dogs a solid mile away howling in sympathy. Girl got LUNGS.
Isi throws a shoe as the grimy rope loops around her legs. It hits heel first into the eye of one of the masks, and a goblin recoils. It makes a high-pitched gibbering wail that does not, in any way, sound like a child. When it shakes its head, the shoe comes free, with a bit of...something dark and coagulated...stuck to the edge of the heel. Ravn's able to snatch it out of the air as Perdita makes some sire threats and screams.
But all three are snagged, and that seems to be what the kids wanted. They shriek with laughter, then turn and run away - the ropes? Well, they're not that long, and soon all three adults are knocked off their feet, being dragged down the asphalt street as if they were being pulled by a car. Outfits are going to be ruined, for sure.
"Grossgrossgross," Isi chants when she realizes what has come out of the 'child's' eye. She doesn't have much more time for that then as she is pulled onto her ass. She flails as hard as she can and reaches for a fence post to try to grab onto.
<FS3> Isi rolls Athletics-3: Failure (5 1) (Rolled by: Isi)
<FS3> Ravn rolls Melee -3: Success (6 ) (Rolled by: Ravn)
Ravn glances at the shoe he managed to grab and he glances at the nearest goblin. He's really not one to go for violence as the first option but he's also not one to try to talk his way out of being -- dragged, desperado behind a mustang style down the street.
He swings the shoe at the nearest goblin and screw trying to be reasonable here. Take that, kid. That Italian leather jacket took four weeks to arrive from Florence and splurging on it has been his guilty secret for six months and bloody hell somebody's going to pay for this.
Amazingly, he doesn't manage to knock himself out.
<FS3> Perdita rolls Athletics-3: Success (6 3 1 1) (Rolled by: Perdita)
The scream is cut off as Perdita goes down fake-boobs first, and the dragging starts. She begins to squirm, already mourning the breastplate and dress, but more worried about surviving the night, now.
And, of course, nobody in this town is dumb enough to come running when they hear a scream like that. Somehow, she manages to contort herself about and wriggle free of the rope, though her tights are now ruined, laddered and lightly bloody on one side, and just... shredded at the ankle on the other. Once she's free, she can focus on freeing Ravn and Isi, after all.
Ravn's swing of the shoe smacks into the back of the neck of the kid holding his rope; the heel sinks into the flesh of the probably-not-a-child, and...gets stuck. Bye-bye shoe, but on the bright side, the kid lets out that hideous wail, and drops the rope, letting Ravn roll to one side and wiggle out of it before another kid can grab it. To one side, Perdita is wriggling herself free of her rope, and manages it.
But Isi? Isi is being dragged away from them. The kids turn and start angling for an alleyway, abandoning Perdita and Ravn to focus on the prey they've still got in hand. That alleyway looks...very dark, and very deep. More than it should.
Isis screams. Lots of screaming. Lots of kicking. It's fine.
<FS3> Ravn rolls Athletics: Failure (5 5 3) (Rolled by: Ravn)
One shoe down and all Ravn has is his fists.
If only he was fighting Seth Monaghan the mob enforcer, maybe he'd stand a chance of narrativity being on the side of the weaker guy. Unfortunately, this trick never works when you're 6'3 and beating up a kid.
All he manages, really, is to -- slow them down a little. Maybe?
<FS3> Perdita rolls Physical-2: Success (7 7 5 3 3) (Rolled by: Perdita)
On her feet and with road rash to the dress but surprisingly not the fake chest (what is this thing made of?) Perdita holds out one hand and focuses on Isi, on the rope, on getting her free, and reaches out with her will, well manicured hand yanking back on the rope with surprising force, snatching it out of the creepy goblin child's hand, before shouting, "Run!"
Yank! Isi suddenly finds the rope around her legs going slack, and her footlong rush towards the dark, yawning mouth of the alleyway stopping. The children all stop in synchronized motion, and turn as one. They stare for a moment, blank and menacing. Then?
Then the little ones lift their knives high, and they all rush forward, howling like beasts.
Isi's a nice solid coward. So when told to run, yeah, she's going to run. Her legs are still trailing those ropes, but it's fine.
"GO AWAY DEVIL CHILDREN GO AWAY."
Running away is very much the sane choice here, and Ravn is all in favour of it. It's just that turning your back on a horde of kids with knives doesn't sound like a great plan, either. And of course there's the whole I am the 6'3 male with two short women, oh fuck issue.
In the absence of a convenient flame thrower, he'll have to make do with what's there. Which is currently -- pavement. Dirt. Regular gutter crap. He tries to focus what little shine he's got on throwing sand in their faces -- except it's not sand, it's whatever's running past in the gutter presently, and more than one part was probably left there by someone's dogs. Any distraction counts, ask the ex-thief.
<FS3> Ravn rolls Physical-1: Success (6 6 ) (Rolled by: Ravn)
<FS3> Perdita rolls Physical-3: Success (7 5 5 2) (Rolled by: Perdita)
The others are running, but Perdita stands her ground for a few more seconds, looking every bit the spooky witch as her left hand snaps out, and with a gasp of effort, the young woman thrusts a dumpster into the path of the horrid little monsters, her teeth gritting with the sheer effort of it... but it should buy a few desperate seconds, which she'll need as she turns to run, suddenly wishing she'd chosen a costume with sneakers. As she runs, the wig somehow manages to stay on, and, just somehow, the shredded dress manages to keep her this side of a censor-side-eying PG-13.
First, the trash of the street rises from the ground, and pelts the little monsters with wet garbage. Their headlong flight stutters - then there's a screech of metal on asphalt as the dumpster slides across the street, slamming into a couple of the children, and blocking the others from sight. The three run, taking the moment's reprieve. They run, finding the lights of the HOPE center looming ahead of them. There's an odd feeling as they reach the building; almost a sensation of their ears popping. But almost immediately after that sensation, they realize that the street isn't abandoned after all. There's a group of drunks coming out of the Pourhouse. And an older woman pushing a cart along the sidewalk. And even a bored looking patrolman, making sure no one's up to any Halloween mischief.
Of course, looking like they do, it's probably not a surprise when his patrol car slows to a crawl beside them, and he peers out, suspiciously.
Isi ain't stopping her running until she gets INTO the HOPE center. Se'll take the crazies in there ANY TIME over the crazies that are GOBLINS trying to KILL HER. Especially since she can feel the dribbles of blood from her back where the road burn is, and she's barefoot. Right now she and the homeless HOPE-ians fit in really well together.
There are times in a man's life he really wishes he didn't have eight hundred and fifty years' worth of noblesse oblige bred into him, and that it all wouldn't manifest in this bizarre urge to wait and hold the door and make sure Perdita makes it in there before Ravn does. Mostly because Ravn is well aware that if it comes to defending against these things, she'll do better than he will. He's going to have to have a talk with himself about toxic masculinity and false chivalry. Later.
Right now, though, he's just going to hold the damn door open and try to shove Perdita in after Isi. Hello, officer. Yes, we're definitely not in the street making trouble, and -- oh shit, it kind of does like he and Perdita are pursuing Isi in there, doesn't it.
It looks like Ravn and Perdita are chasing Isi, Isi's bleeding, and Perdita looks like a particularly festive streetwalker. Which, for the right pay... Perdita almost stops to stare at Ravn, giving him an incredulous look as she runs through the open door.
"Get your chivalrous ass in here before they stab it, you actual porcelain doll of a man! I've got TWO friends in this town, I don't care to replace you!" wait, she has another friend? Does she mean her cat? She probably means her cat.
And in they go, back into the light of the HOPE Center. The patrolman frowns, considering the chill of the air, idling his cruiser for a moment, deciding whether he REALLY wants to get out of his nice, heated car and go involve himself in what is probably a Domestic Dispute.
Nope, he clearly decides, and presses on the gas. As the car slides away into the night, no sign of the evil trick or treaters can be seen.
"You owe me new fucking shoes and a dress." Isi says - PROBABLY to Ravn, or maybe Dita. Who knows. Maybe she's talking to the spirits or something as she does an awkward turn to try to see the damage inflicted upon her back after that nightmare.
"I had a date."
Ravn looks at his jacket. "When you find out whom to sue, tell me? I'm going to need a new jacket. AGAIN."
The wig catches Isi mid torso, while, a few seconds later, the entire chest plate SMACKS to the ground in front of Ravn, looking rather like some Silence of the Lambs skinsuit weirdness, as Perdita stands there in a sports bra and a too-large dress, breathing hard, bleeding from a thin gash on her exposed thigh, most of her hair up in a pinned up braid atop her head... and she starts laughing, the sound contagious. "Come on. I've got a dress that will fit you in my car, at least, and a first aid kit. And if any of those little fuckers come at me again I'm throwing them into the fucking ocean. With my brain."
"Daaaammmmnnn girl." Isi whistles faintly (from the nice protection of INSIDE.) She's impressed easily by feats of strength - or pulling off of body parts. She's not quite so ready to go outside and steps that way hesitantly. "You do have style...." which is enough to draw Isi out reluctantly after her. She DOES need a new dress.
Tags: