[identity profile] veritarossa.livejournal.com
Days passed and winter made its way to San Miguel. What started with a slight cold breeze ended up in a snow storm, covering the town in bright white snow. And even after the hail stopped and the sun rose, the snow did not melt.

Winter was welcome. It was a change not made by any of the players of the board. It had a "natural thing to happen" feeling to it, something that could not be changed. Something normal, perhaps. And after the last game, normality was as welcome as hot chocolate, warm clothes and snowfights.

Had it been already 2 weeks after the Puppeteer's game? Time seemed to fly. The innkeepers did their best to keep the spirits high, and even decorated their building with all kinds of seasonal things. Of course, the magically lit path into the forest wasn't their doing, but they said nothing of it.

The invitations were sent that very morning. It was small, and simply worded.

You are invited to a Christmas party. Follow the lights into the forest. No games, just an evening to celebrate. Kind regards, Beatrice.


Everything was ready. Music, tables, food, everything was in place. And as soon as the sun set, the guests would arrive. Some confused, some wary, but they'd arrive. And they'd find a warm and cozy hall to enjoy no matter their suspicions.

The witch smiled as she lit the last candle in the enormous Christmas tree in the hall. It was time.

Let the party begin.

Here for explanation! )
[identity profile] wearafancyhat.livejournal.com
They say that when you are about to die, you see your life go in front of your eyes. That hadn't happened exactly like that the first time he died, as he was too busy with other matters, but now it was different.


He had been rather surprised when he got sentenced to Purgatory instead of Hell.

After all he had lied, he had been selfish, and he had killed indiscriminately for his own goals. He didn't really consider his last three months, including Zero Requiem a heroic sacrifice, and he was, in his own eyes, irredeemable.

Of course, after being brought back in quite an abrupt (and non optional) way, he was pretty much convinced that this was actually Hell and that he had been lied to. The zombies certainly didn't help to stop that train of thought.

He had run about two blocks before growing tired. The robes were uncomfortable for physical activity and it had never been his forte anyway. In a stroke of luck he had found an open door, and he was now hiding in one of the houses, trying to catch his breath.

He knew it was only a temporary pause, the undead would most likely notice where he was soon and he had to be ready to start running again.

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July 2014

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