01: just a step for a mobster
Characters: Mezumaru and vatheon that wants to join the fun
Location: a street, close to the park
Time: around dusk
Style: any"
Status: open
There’s a vague sense of dread in the air, a feeling that’s suffocating and distracting, but never quite amounts to a level of real terror just yet.
It’s like the odor of something rotten, a very bad thing that’s just waiting to happen to whoever is foolish enough to linger instead of leaving as quickly as they can.
This feeling clings to a certain dark corner of the street that’s just ahead and-
“Oh, quit that, you stupid hitodama! I already told you that the eye-sockets of my skull are no resting place! Keep doing stuff like that and I’ll really eat youuuuwahhh?!”
There’s a rather ominous shuffling of feet trying to find halt somewhere right above you. They are followed by the characteristic sound of old material giving way to the weight put on it and a string of archaic choice swearing cut short signal that it might be best to take some steps back/ahead/to the side before the source of the ominous feeling comes rushing down.
And then there it is, a yellow-brown ghost with a maned skull instead of a head, hanging upside down on what appears to be a spider’s thread, a bright-orange fairy hot on its “heels”.
…Right now neither of them are overly graceful.
“Phew! Thank god I have my strings and OUT OF MY SKULL YOU-oh.“ There’s a pause. A rather awkward one. Then the …’thing’ tilts its skull (which it has to hold in place with one hand, don’t mind that) to the side and chirps ever so cheerfully: “Hii~dyo! Don’t mind me, I’m just lurking a bit~”
Location: a street, close to the park
Time: around dusk
Style: any"
Status: open
There’s a vague sense of dread in the air, a feeling that’s suffocating and distracting, but never quite amounts to a level of real terror just yet.
It’s like the odor of something rotten, a very bad thing that’s just waiting to happen to whoever is foolish enough to linger instead of leaving as quickly as they can.
This feeling clings to a certain dark corner of the street that’s just ahead and-
“Oh, quit that, you stupid hitodama! I already told you that the eye-sockets of my skull are no resting place! Keep doing stuff like that and I’ll really eat youuuuwahhh?!”
There’s a rather ominous shuffling of feet trying to find halt somewhere right above you. They are followed by the characteristic sound of old material giving way to the weight put on it and a string of archaic choice swearing cut short signal that it might be best to take some steps back/ahead/to the side before the source of the ominous feeling comes rushing down.
And then there it is, a yellow-brown ghost with a maned skull instead of a head, hanging upside down on what appears to be a spider’s thread, a bright-orange fairy hot on its “heels”.
…Right now neither of them are overly graceful.
“Phew! Thank god I have my strings and OUT OF MY SKULL YOU-oh.“ There’s a pause. A rather awkward one. Then the …’thing’ tilts its skull (which it has to hold in place with one hand, don’t mind that) to the side and chirps ever so cheerfully: “Hii~dyo! Don’t mind me, I’m just lurking a bit~”