#fallen london

[local-ragamuffin]

since when was the candle pinkish-purple

[szilverer]

an AF revenge piece >:D The Janusian Playwright for @you-very-well-may-die

hello im alt versions georg and i had a Lot of fun playing with light on this one can you tell

[you-very-well-may-die]

LOMNDON....

[local-ragamuffin]

"The Starved Men have descended upon London. The streets are choked with amber and masonry. And no one is coming." STOP. NO ONE BEING AROUND TO HELP IS LITERALLY ONE OF MY WORST FUCKING FEARS STOP

[shazzbaa]

I love Monster-Hunters in Fallen London. I have hunted a mistruth -- literally, with a harpoon -- and taken the Hunter's Sacrament, a taste of my kill. I cannot articulate to you what that means I actually did, in reality, but I was successful, and I got paid for it.

One of my favourite things about Monster-Hunters is the assertion that the Hunt is a sacred rite which "cannot be performed in sight of living men" because I love the idea that the REAL reason the rites cannot be performed in sight of living men is that you'd scare your neighbours. There's some instances where it's only blood you taste, but when you kill you're meant to partake of it; you have taken on a predator's instincts in order to survive and succeed these hunts, and must satiate it. You have, actually, in taking this profession, transformed yourself into a strange freak. You've fundamentally altered your perception of reality to see prey where others see monsters and concepts, and your hunts leave you with the demand of a shamefully taboo ritual in your body, one that would rightly have frightened citizens calling you a monster were you to perform your duties in the light of day. You ARE more monstrous than you were before. You are taking one for the team by becoming this thing.

So instead of the pitch being "we need volunteers to become weird ostracised freaks to protect London, please, it isn't glamorous but it's necessary," these frightening changes are coated in spirituality. You perform rites to strip away human thought. The predatory state you enter is described like a meditative trance rather than a feral abandon of your humanity. That taste of your prey is communion, a sacrament. You hide this state from the people of London not because it is shameful, but because it is sacred and must not be profaned.

[local-ragamuffin]

oh i suffer in all of the estival events don't i. i just. i just wanted to grow plants

[arcana-of-time]

Little prompt for people with FL ocs:

If your character(s), intentionally or accidentally, triggered an estival, what exactly would it look like?

[arcana-of-time]

I couldn't figure out how to fake a screenshot but nonetheless, this is what the barking action ought to be saying at this point:

Unusual mania

There is a problem, to put it lightly. Too many people are advertising, and not enough are buying. The Bazaar's seemingly endless riches of moonpearls begin to exhaust, and in fear of riot constables encourage uninvolved citizens to take a vacation to the Hinterlands, free of charge. You are not aware of this until the following morning, reading the paper with lost memories and a scarred throat.