In your messhall, being mocked by life.
*The messhall is tonight the host of quite a spectacular spectacle. Upon a table stands an elaborate cake, shaped like a black coffin (dark chocolate) being draped in a red, torn sheet (marzipan) and adorned with sixtyone majestic black candles and marzipan-decorations shaped like broken hearts (tastes like strawberries). Next to it lies a written note telling everyone that the cake is free for everyone, and above the table hang banners proudly proclaiming:
”Happy Birthday Vincent Valentine!” ”Congratulations to one more year without a tan!” ”You’re only as old as you feel and remember!”
And as for the birthday boy himself? He is currently standing with his coffin (the one who looks just like the cake) wrapped in his cape and slung over his shoulder in a corner of the hall. Because whenever he goes anywhere near the cake, it transforms into sixtyone black, charred and utterly inedible cupcakes with little candles in them.
Ladies and gentlemen: please enjoy your cake. :)*
((OOC:But do so without Vincent, for he goes to sleep now! Will return later on to pick up threads!))
”Happy Birthday Vincent Valentine!” ”Congratulations to one more year without a tan!” ”You’re only as old as you feel and remember!”
And as for the birthday boy himself? He is currently standing with his coffin (the one who looks just like the cake) wrapped in his cape and slung over his shoulder in a corner of the hall. Because whenever he goes anywhere near the cake, it transforms into sixtyone black, charred and utterly inedible cupcakes with little candles in them.
Ladies and gentlemen: please enjoy your cake. :)*
((OOC:But do so without Vincent, for he goes to sleep now! Will return later on to pick up threads!))