TIMESTAMP: Saturday, December 7th, pre-party
DIRECTED TO: Anyone!
𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐨𝐧𝐥𝐲 𝐡𝐞𝐥𝐩 𝐖𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐛𝐮𝐭𝐞𝐬 𝐢𝐬 𝐟𝐨𝐨𝐝. For any party, or funeral, or event, she is the first to put her name down for the potluck. She does not plan, and she does not decorate. She does not volunteer to set up decorations, and she most certainly does not stay after to clean up. Frankly, she didn’t want to volunteer at all, but she ultimately decided that to not do so would look more suspicious than anything. Everyone was going to be here. She made her pack promise to wear triple layers and heartily encouraged them to go back home after the temperature dropped, but she couldn’t shake the fear in her gut that one of them would change tonight.
Will parked her truck outside of the barn, noting and deciding to ignore the eyes the thundering of her engine received. Her truck was a piece of crap but she loved it and they would pry the keys out of her cold, dead hands. She hopped out, slid her keys into her pocket, and popped open the back. She stared at her equipment; food pans, chafing dishes, heat lamps, etc. She bit her lip, and glanced around. “Hey!” She called, waving her arm, a warm smile on her lips. “Can I borrow you? To help carry some of these stuff in?”
Location: Whitegrass property
Time: 6 dec
@shiverstarters
Raine had walked away from the vigil like a rat running from a cat. They were standing near the tree line, their hands shaking as they tried to light what little was left from the joint they had started that morning. They could feel grief settling in their chest. Jacob was dead, and their heart was beating at a surging rate that it almost scared them. They sighed in asparation when the joint started burning, and took a very long inhale before letting themselves lay down in the grass. Their eyes closed they could hear someone approaching behind them. The weed was strong, it would take about a few minutes for it to raise a wall of fog in their brain, but they were already celebrating the possibility.
The person got nearer, and Raine opened their eyes again. They patted the pocket of their jeans. “If it’s a joint you want, they’re five bucks a piece,” they said.
date: november 14th
location: harvestfest
availability: closed for @basswccd + @herwildwhispers + @ofhumanities
For the first time in what feels like forever, Hutch isn’t thinking. Or rather, he isn’t overthinking. The booze in his system makes it so much easier to just not care. He cannot manage to be caught up in what-ifs and ruined friendships when he can’t even manage to find his way out of the maze of Harvestfest texts. He’s on autopilot, find’s the name in his phone that he’d been avoiding all week and shoots off a quick text.
to → diego: i’m so drunk
to → diego: i need you
He stumbles bleary-eyed, trying to catch his breath. Doesn’t even notice he’s dangerously close to falling into an unsuspecting couple until it’s too late. He blinks; once, then twice and suddenly recognition hits. “Hey?” It’s all he manages.
☓
location: harvestfest. friday november 15th. 4:30pm / 16:00
status: OPEN ; @shiverstarters
He checked his watch. Just a half hour more until he would be free from the uniform; a freedom which couldn’t come soon enough if his head--which somehow felt light and heavy simultaneously--had anything to say about it. The terrible inkling of an oncoming illness worried him, despite not being nauseous, nor stuffed up. Not even a sore throat.
Something wasn’t right.
He checked his watch, and looked around. For a town that was usually so quiet, it surprised him how loud its citizens could be when gathered. Wait, what time was it?
It wasn’t the nicest of watches Sam wore on his wrist, but it got the job done for the most part. Then again, it was causing some problems a few days prior. His wrist itched, and he knew he’d just checked the time, but he could not deny the small chance that he may have misread it.
He checked his watch. 4:31. Okay. Maybe it wasn’t wrong.
Man, he felt sick. Sick and panicked because why would he be sick? It must have been hunger, or lack of sleep. It couldn’t be hunger though, as it wasn’t too long ago that he’d eaten. What had he eaten?
“Ohhh...” he sighed. The recollection of what he’d eaten and who had given it to him set in.
There was no way... They wouldn’t have...
“Fuck,” Sam thought, but somehow his train of thought came spilling out of his mouth too.
It seems like all of Blackrock has packed itself into the confines of Pioneer Square, jostling and elbowing each other as they strain to see. On the stage stands Mayor Nook-Rossetti, flanked on one side by his beaming family, and the other the proud Harvestfest planning committee. This is a year-long project in the making, the mayor starts, and he can say with the utmost pride and gratitude that it has been a success. The crowd, beckoned by the mayor’s open arms and wide smile, howls with glee.
But – Harvestfest can’t yet be complete. Of all the events and all the ceremonies that have taken place these last few days, none is quite so well attended, no so controversial, as the Welcoming of the Wolves. Here, Mayor Nook brings out the lanterns and the cornucopias, welcomes town leaders to the stage – farmers and police officers, park rangers and shop owners – to help in beckoning in the change of seasons.
He doesn’t make it that far. Nook has hardly lifted the first ear of corn before, in a blink-brief moment, the Square is plunged into darkness. Miles away on the Whitegrass property, hosting the last few hours of rides and games, the same thing happens. Music cuts short. Lights go out. Panic ensues.
No one’s quite sure how long the power stays out. Some will say ten minutes, maybe, others maintain it was close to an hour. Electricians on site immediately following the power outage say they can find no reason why the lights went out in Pioneer Square or the rides all stopped on the Whitegrass land. Not that anyone has much attention to give the mayor’s placating statements when the smoke clears.
At the edge of Pioneer Square SAM MEHTA and MILO WHITEGRASS stand shaken, bruises and cuts already blooming. The Whitegrass land takes longer to get back up and running, but when it does, HUTCH BAKER and EVAN CZARNECKI are sporting similar injuries. Both parties are shaken and confused, unsure how they arrived at where they were found.
No one even notices Jacob Saterlee (NPC), aged 14, has all but vanished from thin air.
TIMESTAMP: November 17th – November 19th
TLDR: at the closing Harvestfest ceremony, the power is cut both in Pioneer Square and on the Whitegrass property, including all rides and games. It’s unclear how long it stays out in both locations, only that Pioneer Square is restored before the Whitegrass land. When the smoke clears and panic dies down, FOUR PLAYABLE CHARACTERS have been found with various light injuries, confused and disoriented about what happened to them during the commotion. In the midst of the chaos, a child has also gone missing.
IF YOU WOULD LIKE YOUR CHARACTER to be one of the four who’s been injured, please either message me on discord or the main ASAP and I will update the plot drop accordingly !!
Location: Pioneer Square
Time: nov 17, early afternoon
@shiverstarters
So far, Harvestfest had been great. Pot-brownies, making people eat pot-brownies, getting Hutch drunk, getting people stoned. Pretty much everything Raine had ever dreamt off.
Or at least, something they had secretly hoped would one day happen, since their days as a stoner kid behind the high school had come to an end. And they had completely enjoyed the whole fest for once in their life............... second time in their life. But all of that was now, well, been made a little difficult.
The worst part of their weekend was avoiding Mar and avoiding the splitting headache getting out of control. They were finding it more and more difficult to just numb the pain with weed. They had stopped drinking alcohol by day two, but not cut back on the weed.
Suffice to say, they fucking hated baseball bats.
“Hey, you got an asperin or something on hand?” they asked a random someone who was standing near Milo’s baking stall.
Raine had spend the whole last couple of days avoiding Mar, they had done an exceptional job, both roaming over the grounds selling brownies, and managing not to even smell her nearby. To their surprise, most of the time, Raine wasn’t even thinking about her as they hidden themselves in the crowds. They were mostly worried about law enforcement getting air of their opperations.
They landed a land on someone’s shoulder, ever so intent on selling as much as possible and getting as many people as possible stoned out of their mind. They held the box slightly open, ready to start their little sellshop speech, when they recognized Mar.
Fuck.
Better to pretend there was nothing wrong. She didn’t see to be having a bat this time around. “Brownie?”
