DECEMBER 2020 EVENT - PART 2

[robbies]

CHAPTER ONE, PART 2: AND ALL THROUGH THE HOUSE

A creature was stirring.

As Christmas grows closer, look up to the skies
Your city is in for a winter surprise
Come enter the village and see all the change
And come face-to-face with the hostile and strange
From iced-over ponds to the workshop's display
There's snowmen and reindeer to complete the holiday
And just when you think that you're safe and you're sound
You open your door and see what's to be found....

---

LET IT SNOW
(cw: sensations of drowning)

JINGLE BELLS
(cw: mind control)

UP ON THE HOUSETOP
(cw: death and decay, claustrophobia)

RUN, RUDOLPH, RUN
(cw: animal death and dismemberment, violence, death and decay, non-human cannibalism)

HAVE YOURSELF A MERRY LITTLE CHRISTMAS

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LET IT SNOW

CW: sensations of drowning

As the gala winds down and you leave town hall to head home, there’s a bite in the air, chillier than it was when you went in earlier that day. The night sky is blanketed by clouds, which only grow heavier as night wears on. By midnight, the first few flakes of snow have begun to fall… and fall, and fall. As night becomes day and the snow keeps coming down heavier than ever, it becomes clear that Santa Rosita is experiencing an unusual snowstorm—maybe the town will get that white Christmas after all! But as the day passes, the storm shows no sign of stopping… in fact, it’s only getting worse.

Over the next week and a half, a blizzard beats down upon the town. Its effects seem to vary by the hour: Though the snow never quite stops, there are times when it falls soft and fluffy, and there are times when it falls so heavily and the wind blows so fiercely that it’s impossible to see more than a few inches ahead of you. You’re welcome to pay visits to your neighbors, of course; they might need help digging out their sidewalks or hauling cords of firewood inside—especially when the electricity goes out. Hopefully you’re not caught out and about when the weather takes a turn for the worse again!

Even inside your houses, you aren’t safe from the blizzard. The first time you open your door on December 16th, feeling the blast of cold air coming from it, you think you know what’s coming. After all, you’ve certainly had enough experience with being sent to the Christmas village in the first half of the month! You sigh, resigning yourself to the long walk home… but as you pass through the door, everything changes in a way it didn’t before. Your brain doesn’t know which way is up as you find yourself underwater, breath expelling in a rush of bubbles as the shocking cold penetrates your body. Somehow you’ve come through the door and ended up beneath the lake’s surface—but the layer of ice above you has thinned and can be easily broken through to regain your feet and drag yourself out of the water to shore.

But you’d better be quick. Take too long and you might feel something grabbing at your heels, trying to pull you back underwater and further into the lake.

Here in the village, the conditions are always bad. Visibility is poor between the wind and the snow, heavy and cold and wet, and you’re soaked to the skin from your recent plunge. Thankfully, there are towels in the small building that was once the skate exchange station, and there are plenty of now-abandoned buildings around the village where you can hunker down and try to warm up before heading home. Maybe it would be a good idea to leave a spare change of clothes behind...

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JINGLE BELLS

CW: mind control

If ending up in the village is bad in the middle of the day, it's even worse at night.

Beyond the freezing winds and the ice you're liable to lose your footing as you pull yourself out of the lake, it's dark as can be out here. Don’t bother looking for a Christmas star to guide you home; out here and this close to the forests, the stars and moon are blotted out by thick clouds and the snow that falls in clumps. Unfortunately, as experience has taught you by now, this is a one-way trip and the only way out is forward.

Of course, this is easier said than done. With its empty buildings and desolate pathways, the Christmas village is a husk of its former self. The cute cobblestone thoroughfares and craft stations that were filled with screaming children only a few days ago are barren and frozen over, as if left to rot in the cold. The other little faux gingerbread and peppermint stick houses aren't much better. At some point on the first day of the blizzard, the power was knocked out, plunging the village into a blackout you now have to navigate if you want to get home. All of the windows are crusted with ice, dark and empty.

Save for one.

As you walk by one particular building, a faint yellow and red glow begins to glimmer from the storefront. One by one, the tiny cottages in the miniature village diorama begin to flicker to life, gears clicking as the mechanisms start powering up. On a miniature turntable hidden behind the display, a needle drops onto a record and a tinny version of Jingle Bells begins to play. A tiny train chugs around the tracks surrounding the diorama and a wax figure of Mrs. Claus in her chair with her candy cane knitting needles rocks back and forth, and it occurs to you just what you're looking at: Santa's Workshop. There can be no mistaking it. Even in the middle of the night, you know exactly where you are.

Don't you?

The light grows, illuminating the entire storefront and spilling out onto the street. You can see everything now. The little elf figure hammering at his workbench, the one next to him sawing at a board of wood, the two balancing on a seesaw as the toy train circles beneath them. Once you take notice of it, it's impossible to look away. The light pulls you in, glowing brighter yet turning darker. Slowly, it turns from angelic, warm gold to blood red.

As strange as this is, this is the best you've felt all week. A tipsy smile at your lips, you watch the light shift into a pretty shade of red as the snow continues to fall around you. In an abstract way, you know this isn't really where you're supposed to be, but it feels so good anyway. Your home (and not your home in Shadyside, your real home), all the bad stuff that worries you and stresses you out—it all dissolves into sugar.

Dreamily, you stare off into space as the song inside the store begins to warp and deepen. Gosh, you can't remember the last time you've felt this nice. You can't remember much of anything at all, like what you were doing earlier today or how you got here to begin with.

But you do know that it's Christmas. And if there's one place everyone should celebrate Christmas in, it's Santa Rosita. Your home.

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UP ON THE HOUSETOP

CW: death and decay, claustrophobia

It's true what they say about wintertime being the cruelest time. Even in Santa Rosita, that sentiment holds true in spite of the otherwise celebratory and comfy atmosphere throughout town. For every sweet smell trickling out of your and your neighbors' houses, a sharp and cold burst of wind follows. The weather is mostly manageable during the daytime hours, but at night it's a different story. The wind can be ferocious, whistling through the naked trees with enough force to send them swaying. If the cold doesn't keep you awake, the sound of branches tapping against your windows will.

When you wake up in the morning, you'll find a new friend waiting for you outside. Sitting in the front of your yard, positioned between the mailbox and the driveway, is a snowman. Its fingers are thin and twiggy, and the branches they're connected to are arched and spread like wings stripped to the bone. Compared to all the other snowmen you've likely passed by throughout Shadyside, there's nothing particularly unique about it, save for its lumpy build and featureless face.

The snowman is still there by the time you return from school or class. This time, however, it's invited another friend: another identical snowman, this one in a different spot in the yard.

So it goes for the next several days. Every time you enter your house or go to sleep, a new snowman is waiting for you in your yard. Their placement has no rhyme or reason: sometimes you'll find one in the back of the yard, other times in a corner off to the side. Sometimes they'll be spread out. Other times—usually when you turn around or go back inside the house—they'll be clustered together in a group, facing the front window.

Eventually, there gets to be so many of them that it becomes difficult to leave the house. Inevitably, whether it be blocking your car, the driveway, or even your front door, you'll wind up dismantling one sooner or later. And when you do, you'll find more than just snow spilling out onto your feet.

Staring back at you, whether from behind the layers of snow you've knocked off the head or up from the ground, is a Robbie, still dressed in their red and green elf uniform from the Christmas village. His—or her—glassy eyes are fixed in a thousand yard stare, mouth stretched in a grinning rictus on their blue face. Within each snowman is a similar one, all of them dressed the same, all of them very much dead, all of them smiling the same mindless smiles they had when they were alive.

With any luck, you’ll wind up taking the snowmen apart by hand instead of finding out the hard way by running one over with your car.

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RUN, RUDOLPH, RUN

CW: animal death and dismemberment, violence, death and decay, non-human cannibalism

Red and white is just as lovely a Christmas combination of colors as red and green, don’t you think? White snow and red pools spread all throughout the little village. Starting on December 16th, you might be first to notice some—or perhaps you’re the unlucky one that falls against a snowbank only to discover, once you put your hands down, that the fresh fallen snow is covering something. Something wet and meaty.

Another shows up the next day. And the next. And there’s not always enough snow to fully cover the carcasses that litter the village and its outskirts. Clustered by the reindeer racing courses children clapped and cheered for are what's left of the reindeer. They've been hunted, but not with knives or bows or guns. Chunks of flesh have been ripped off their bones and ribs are cracked where massive force has been applied, eyes white and milky—if they haven’t been plucked out. Some of the beasts are still alive and huddling in their stables, balking when the doors are open or bolting, as fast as their long strides can take them, out toward the Old Growth. Careful you don’t get in their way!

By the 18th, none of the reindeer are alive inside the stables. There aren’t enough corpses to account for the whole herd you’d seen before (bored and spoiled, wreaths around their necks). But if you follow the sounds of crunching, the wet and sticky humidity of breath, and the smell that rises up and above the dung and rot of desiccated corpses—

There, hunched over a kill, is a thing with just as many bones visible as mangy flesh upon its back. And when its head turns round, there are fangs in its mouth and claws on five-fingered paws, and both are stained deep scarlet—there are antlers bleached as white as snow—and its red eyes are socket-deep, dilated, and suddenly fixed on you.

Let’s hope you can run on ice and snow!

The creatures are looking for more food now that the reindeer have all been hunted down. Lingering in the village, slow and sluggish on all fours unless they rise to two broad feet and sniff the air, they are massive beasts. Not men, not deer, not Christmas cheer, that’s for darn sure. Unless a human happens by, they will stay in their place—the village, far from town square and blizzard-covered Main Street. If they catch sight of someone, they will pursue them with surprising speed to the ends of the earth-—or at least right up to your front door or until you manage to lose them. They’ll search long and hard, sniffing with their skeletal snouts on hand and far-too-human knee, before giving up and heading back toward their village home. Unless someone else crosses paths with them, that is.

The lights on homes and fires burning in hearths seem to deter them... unlike silver, salt, or sharpened knives (unless they are made of iron or steel), which just bring the deer rearing up onto their back legs to tower up and over you, antlers blotting out the wintry sun, ribs bulging beneath their thin and ripping skin. The cold doesn’t bother them despite their hunger—aren’t reindeer native to the arctic? Perhaps that explains why ice has no effect and they appear from the blizzard as if it was as harmless as a hearty breeze. All the speech you ever can hear is the hunting cry they make—the full body bellow of a thing in pain and rage and determined to survive at your expense.

Unless you can outrun them.

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HAVE YOURSELF A MERRY LITTLE CHRISTMAS

At midnight, December 25th, everything stops.

Peek out your window and there is only peaceful, picture-perfect snow. No blizzards and no blackouts. No stalking deer, no bodies and no snowmen, save the ones that the Anderson children put up on Midwich Street. The Christmas village is gone—no teleporting doors, no lights, no reindeer (at least that you can see or find)—as if it had never been there at all. Only lightly falling snow and cars in the driveway, families at home just as they ought to be—eating cookies, drinking milk, opening the presents spilling out from under the tree. Santa has been generous this year!

And don’t think he’s forgotten you, either!

For those of you who wrote Santa a letter, a box will be waiting on your front doorstep. Try as you might, you can’t find any footprints in the snow, and you certainly didn’t hear any knock on the door or ringing of the bell. It’s addressed specifically for you, along with a little note written in someone’s (very best attempt at) cursive:

I’m sorry if you got hurt
Please don’t be mad
Merry Christmas

P.S. I tried my best to get you what you asked for

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OOC INFO

Happy holidays and welcome to part two of our December event! As always, feel free to top-level for this event, tag around, or utilize our network and log communities for your snowy-spooky posts.

As with part one of the event, mod-controlled NPCs will not be available for this event. You are, however, free to use the Santa Rosita Police Department and Robbies as player-controlled NPCs if you feel they are appropriate for your threads. Need more information? Direct your attention over to our NPC page for the most up-to-date info on your fellow townspeople.

Regular teleporting to the village still happens; the lake is now just an added destination. If you still would like your character to appear in the village but wish to avoid the lake prompt, doors still will randomly teleport you to the village as they did in the first half of the month. Each prompt with peril only can result in death to your character if that is how you would prefer the thread to go. Remember: just because a monster is chasing you or you teleport into the lake doesn’t mean there isn’t a place around for them to hide and get warm! For this event we don’t want people to feel forced to kill their characters. Consider built-in survival options as a gift from mods to players this time... except for the monster in the lake.

Well, we wouldn't say monster, but you didn't think you were the only ones in town with a home, did you?

Whatever's living in the lake can be staggered and caught off-guard, so fighting back against it if it catches you is possible—possible, but not a good idea. You'll never get a thorough enough look to even know what it is you're fighting.

Characters who end up getting caught by it will only have one chance to fight it off long enough to escape and swim to safety. While you can technically stick around in the lake and attempt to search, you do so at your own peril. Staying for any longer than you have to or trying to seek whatever-it-is out will be a death sentence for your character. Please remember to report all deaths and crimes that would be worthy of Tranquilization on their appropriate page here.

Any questions can go in our FAQ thread below. Try to check and see if your question has already been answered on the plotting thread first here.

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Comments

[hoshikiri]

i. let it snow, let it go (cw: depiction of drowning and ptsd)

[The one mercy Takame had here was that his time in Ishgard prepared him for the harsh conditions of a blizzard. He was used to not having the luxury of electricity, bundling by a hearth instead and using torchlight and his sharp eyes to see through whiteout conditions. He still didn’t like the cold, even without his scales, but preference didn’t matter in the face of surviving. That was the ever present truth of his life.

He trekked through the storm despite how strong it was just as an instinct to find something to make the experience less uncomfortable for his housemate, but finding every shop to be closed he returned to their home. Only to open the door, step through and have his system shocked by a piercing cold that seeped through his thick coat that half stuck, half flowed away from his body.

He was… underwater? A product of the realm, he imagined, inhaling through his nose naturally only to have his nostrils filled with water falling into his throat, making him cough just to fill his lungs even more of it. He tried to hold it, bringing a hand to touch his neck and chest but he had no breath left to hold and instead flailed wildly in the water, desperately trying to push it out of his mouth as if it would matter.

The more he tried, the more his vision went dark. It was like being caught in smoke, the same sensation of suffocation… the same burning pain singing his left flank, but this time it was through his entire body. Impossible… He could breathe in water… he could breathe in water…

In his wild and weakening flailing as the depictions of the Scions and his sister figures slowly flashed in his mind, he felt something. Twice. Once against his foot. Another against his hand. Ice, it’s ice, it’s ice, it’s ice, break it, destroy it, eliminate it.

Not unlike his final encounter with Emet-Selch, with all his might he struck whatever was above his head, a heavy blow that put his blow to the Ascian to shame, shattering the ice and clutching for his life at the corner of it, anything for leverage to bring himself up and into the air again. Greatest strength comes at the brink of death, that bit of grip he had was enough that he could bring his face out at least, enough for one thin breath and a loud scream once muffled by water.]

Aaugh!! Nghh--! [He submerged once more, almost being pulled by something, but his need to stay alive came out of hibernation and he kept trying to claw his way out. In this state, though, he couldn’t on his own.]

ii. Run, rudolph, run (cw: aggressive violence)

[For as reluctant to leave through any doors as Takame was given what’s happened, he was the Hero of his realm. A hero went out and helped people, right? Or perhaps he simply didn’t want to think about what happened and sought to keep himself busy. It didn’t bear thinking about either way, this was still his duty.

He didn’t have to go far to sense death given what was outside his door. But the long dead humans and the recently deceased animals had a widely different scent to them. What he wouldn't give to have his sword back, but he didn’t have it and nothing would change that.

He saw them. The monsters that looked like voidsent whose claws and teeth matched the mangled animals he saw. And while the few who sought him out were dispatched without notice, when he saw one from a distance charging towards someone defenseless, he didn’t waste time in rushing forward himself, shoulder tackling it, grabbing it by the neck with nails firmly dug into the rotten flesh and the aim to smash its head into the nearest hard surface until it bled out. It wouldn’t go down without a fight, and as he struggled against it he gave a warning to whoever its original target was.]

Fall back!

iii. wildcard

[[ so I was thinking about robbie-ing takame for a bit, but i’d like to keep that prompt to one, then maybe do some kind of aftermath post later on. If you’re interested in that feel free to poke at my linked plotting post or hit me up at bonpuns ! This also applies if you had any other idea for anything else, heck they can do ACTUAL christmas plans. But he’ll wanna be keeping busy after this. ]]

I

[righthandstand]

[There's movement below Takame.

Okuyasu had only a warm sweater on, just having come home and taken off his coat, and the plan was to go to his room and change into something lighter. His face was still red from the cold when he opened the door and fell forward into a cold pool.

The sudden shock knocks out most of what breath he had in him, and nows he's going to die, trapped in some nightmare realm of water-

But there's light he can see light above. It'd a pool, maybe a lake. All he had to do is swim up. He shuts his eyes ands pushes himself upward, reaching out for anything to grab onto, a sign that someone is up there.

At one point, he grips Takame's shirt, pulling him down. Okuyasu opens his eyes and oh fuck it's another guy; maybe he is going to die here and end up like him-

In his panic, his hand emerges from the lake, thanks to Takame's earlier efforts. Okuyasu flails around, searching for the edge, and breaks off a smaller chunk.

All he had to do is grab the edge and pull, and he's free.]

[hoshikiri]

[Okuyasu should thank the stars Takame's strength was poured almost entirely into survival. When he was pulled down he tried to dig his nails into the thin ice to keep whatever was below him from pulling him down like a wavekin from a pirate's tale. With limited strength he kicked it down, thumping his boot weakly right into whatever was touching him.

He was focused on his upper body strength. But in that focus he noticed the hand that wasn't his come up from the water.

An enemy? Another person, a native? Either way, something to grab onto, though his intent was far from that of a savior. If he had the energy, he would have broken the arm he grabbed and how tight his grip was clearly displayed his power. Regardless of whether Okuyasu was enemy or friend, he still kept moving, pulling himself and Okuyasu out of the lake on his back.

Then unceremoniously threw Okuyasu off of him flat onto the ice just to try and push himself to his knees and cough out the water that made itself at home in his lungs.]

[righthandstand]

[The additional boost is unexpected, but Okuyasu doesn't complain about it. He collapses onto the ice, hearing what he hopes isn't it cracking, but he's above water and he's alive.

Eventually, he finds the energy to roll onto his back and let out a long groan.]

What...the fuck...happened...

[He rubs the area of his arm that Takame grabbed. He's strong, pretty great. Okuyasu lifts his head to get a better look at the other guy.

It's just a person.]

[hoshikiri]

[Just a person indeed. A person with long hair and heavy clothes drenched and clinging to him and only helping to make breathing much harder. While most of the water seems to have been coughed out (among other things), Takame had no words to give. Barely even a glance towards Okuyasu even, only confirming that it was another human while he spent the rest of his time heaving and shivering.]

H...how...? ["How could this be?" repeated over and over in his head. His entire life he's been able to breathe underwater... and yet he almost... drowned? He couldn't think of anything else or even respond properly, but he willed himself to crawl along the ice just to be away from it even though he carried the frigid air with him.

200% Not Okay Blonde Man Alert, please assist.]

[righthandstand]

[He can't stay here for long or he'll fall through the ice again. Okuyasu has been in the water for less time than Takame, so he is able to pull himself onto his hands and knees relatively quickly. Figuring out answers can come later; the first thing to do is to get to safety.

The cold snow won't stop him from falling onto it. Okuyasu manages to get to the edge before he turns back to the other guy, who has barely moved.

Shit.]

You alive?

[hoshikiri]

[At some point while dragging himself away, Takame threw the weighted coat he wore to the wayside. It was soaked and only made him more cold. But the clothes he had on beyond that still stuck to him, soaked and froze him to the core, not helped by his long and heavy hair. His body wouldn't stop shaking and his breathing was uneven and short.

But he was breathing, at least, putting all his will into looking at his company and trying to respond through chattering teeth.]

Y...Yes... [He was still trying to move, sit up, stand something, but struggled.] C...cold... Who... are you...

[righthandstand]

Niji...Nijimura. [He stammers out his family name. He's not in the mood to help out a stranger, and the guy seems to be doing alright. Still, he did save him, and Okuyasu creeps out from the edge, carefully crawling towards Takame and watching for any signs of ice breakage.]

Nijimura Okuyasu. But I'm just Okuyasu here.

[hoshikiri]

["Alright" was relative. He was cold, confused, concerned and most notably as Okuyasu may notice the closer he got, very on edge.

The question was asked not to remember the name, but to discern whether or not Okuyasu was a native. He didn't speak like one at least, but Takame was still wary given he felt someone try to drag him deeper. Jumping to conclusions? Maybe, but what else was a man like a cornered and startled animal to do.]

Was it... you... pulling me...

[righthandstand]

Yeah. Unless there's another person down there. [What if he killed a dude, and their corpse is lying at the bottom of the lake? Was it someone he met?]

...See anything through the ice?

[Okuyasu pauses to look into the lake, but it's too dark to make out anything.]

[hoshikiri]

[Well, that was the wrong thing to say to this very unhappy and unsettled former Au Ra because now he's suspicious and channeling his energy into that instead of how cold and afraid he was at his lack of Kojin's Blessing. He wasn't looking in the lake, to hells with the lake and whatever else may be under it.]

You could... have killed me. Or was that... your intent?

[righthandstand]

[If this turns into a fight, Okuyasu doesn't care. This man could have just as easily refused to help him climb out of the ice. Strangers don't usually mean free help.]

You think I'd care to see if you were another person when I was drowin'? At least we're both alive. [But a favor requires a favor in return. Okuyasu crawls up to Takame this time, screw caution, and holds out a hand.]

Hold on and I'll pull you.

[hoshikiri]

[It may well have if Takame wasn't cold and barely mobile. But then, if he wasn't he would've been less likely to get hostile so quickly. A product of his youth, he'll assume. In retrospect anyway.

He wasn't pleased at feeling this weak without the Blessing, nor did he have the most trust for Okuyasu. But in this situation he wasn't so prideful to refuse help and took the hand offered.]

Apologies, I... jumped to conclusions. [Said looking away, half in shame and half to see if anything else was in the lake.]

ii

[ribticklers]

[Sans has always hated fighting--he does it as little as possible. And when he has to, he does it from a distance, with magic. But this human body doesn't have magic, and Sans isn't going to try punching anything with teeth and claws that look like that. He's good at getting out of the way, but he doesn't have the endurance to keep up all this running.

Then someone is--clotheslining it, practically, which is definitely a surprise but not a bad one. This guy... Sans sold him a snow cone. Well, Sans isn't going to be helping him out by getting in the way. He ducks toward the nearest house.] Some holiday celebration, huh?

[hoshikiri]

[A night and day difference, the man fumbling with coins with an air of "how do you do fellow extroverts" and the man putting all his effort into making sure this voidsent's face made good friends with the ground.]

Not quite... expected, I'll confess... hk-! [The creature kicked at Takame's legs and whipped its neck erratically in his grip. He wouldn't be deterred. Especially once he determined Sans was just out of sight enough for him to not notice Takame sweeping his un-assaulted leg under the creature's to disorient it then using his entire weight to cause them both to collapse to the earth with a punch to its decaying jaw for good measure. Animal bones or human bones, Takame knew approximately how much force was needed to break them either way.

Whether it worked for long or not, he lifted himself off the ground, stepping backwards away from the monster.]

Please hurry inside. I will continue to bar its path.

[ribticklers]

[Some people would argue or try to help. Sans knows when to run. This guy just broke that creature's jaw, or close to it, what would Sans even do, kick some snow at it? He dodges for the door, hardly skidding on the snow and ice at all.]

They don't like light, in case you didn't know. [There, he provided some help. Of course, the power may or may not be on right now... But maybe there's a flashlight inside somewhere.]

[hoshikiri]

[Takame's seen enough heroic sacrifice attempts to appreciate when someone just retreated. While he was also thankful for the short breather he got in fracturing the voidsent-like creature's skull, he knew it wouldn't last. Even Sans' piece of advice hardly made him break his stance.]

Light? [Said glancing at the house nearby though unable to tell if the lights were on or not given the weather. If he had his sharper sight, he could tell. If he had his soul of the ninja he could generate a flame and incinerate the thing. It didn't matter all that mattered was the enemy clawing its way back up from the snow. Maybe it was better he didn't have his blade, without it he could see past his tunnel and walk backwards towards where a porchlight would be.]

Where can a light be found?

flipped a coin to determine power status

[ribticklers]

How lucky do you feel? [The idea of having to run back outside with a flashlight is one that makes Sans's horribly real stomach churn; he is just not cut out for this kind of thing. Luckily, as he blindly flips all the switches at once, the lights sputter to life. Looks like the electricity's working for the moment.

So, guess it was pretty lucky. It definitely wasn't Sans's luck working there.]

thanks rngesus you've saved takame from ironic injury

[hoshikiri]

[He's the Warrior of Darkness, Sans, that's like the least lucky job you can have. Or most depending on how you see it.

Takame made it a few steps away from the nearest window, arms raised, teeth clenched and hands clenched into tight fists ready for the monster to pounce. But as soon as the lights were flipped on all at once it hissed and turned on its heels to run far in the opposite direction and away from the light.

It took a long moment for the battle high to fade from Takame, he kept staring in the direction it ran expecting it to come back towards the house and potentially endanger someone in it. But after maybe a full two minutes passed, he leaned his back against the wall just next to the window with a soft exhale visible in the cold air.]

... I don't often rely upon luck.

[ribticklers]

[Sans sags, relieved, as the thing runs off.] Yeah, mine ain't great, but trust me, my left hook's worse. 'Course, yours seems pretty good. [So maybe Takame would have been fine. But even Sans can try to turn on some lights, especially when he wasn't sure if that thing would try to break into the house if it got through Takame.]

[hoshikiri]

So I'm aware... [Said followed by an absent minded cracking of his bruised knuckles. One couldn't call him underconfident about his skills at punching. Takame hadn't gone unarmed in a while, but he was forced to here until he found a weapon. Not that he wasn't used to trial by fire.

He's still looking out into the distance where the monster ran, but he glanced at Sans through his peripheral vision.]

Are you alright?

[ribticklers]

I could use a nap. [But aside from being exhausted from running around, Sans is fine.] What about you? You were the one doin' the work. [This counts as a thank you, probably.]

[hoshikiri]

[Considering "thank you"s aren't expected most of the time, Takame could assume that much. Given the heavier than normal rise and fall of his chest he was just as exhausted. And bruised elsewhere not that it could be seen through winter clothes.]

I am fine. [Fake.] You are free to rest. Should it come close again I will keep it at bay.

[He doubted it considering how quick it ran from the light, but he wasn't optimistic about them staying on. Not to mention he can and will give chase if he isn't stopped.]

[ribticklers]

Outside? [Sans can feel how cold it is--which is a little bit of a novelty, still, but not a fun one.] Might as well wait inside for whatever's gonna attack next, yeah?

[hoshikiri]

... Yes? [How else would he chase it effectively? Or perhaps that was strange of him. It was cold, unpleasant, more than just his hands were scratched and chasing the damnable creature down before it reached Sans through the snow took effort but exhaustion was mental, as was pain.

But as always Takame was quick to fold to a kind fellow's suggestion.]

Ah, I suppose you're right... [Said walking into the house, the few steps past the door showing a noticeable limp and bruises clear on his hands in the light. Someone's been at this for a while.]