⇨ HEARTSTONE MANOR

[ringleaders]

Who: Everyone!
When: Day 170 - Day ???
Where: Heartstone Manor
What: The carnival arrives at the Heartstone Manor. Do your best to play along, and try not to get too far ahead of the schedule with threading if you can avoid it, in case something that would affect your character happens early on.
Warnings: Individually marked! Could be a lot of things.

BEAUTIES AND THE BEAST↴ When the carnival arrives at the Manor, everyone will be taken into the Throne Room to greet the Prince for the first time. He will be lounging on his throne, and will take a look at the guests that the Ringmaster has brought before eventually dismissing everyone so that he can talk to her alone. After that, they will be given a brief tour of the Manor by some of the servants, and then brought to their rooms to start picking out clothes for tomorrow. On the first night they will be permitted to wear regular clothes, but starting the next morning the dress code will be enforced. There will be a number of servants helping guests with clothing, and making alterations to suit the non-humanoid features they may have. The tailors work with fabric by hand, but their stitching is impossibly quick and accurate, with changes being made to complex clothing at unbelievable speed. Some guests may note while working with them that one of the seamstresses has wooden mannequin-esque hands instead of human ones, and another has two sets of arms. The arms are one of the most obviously inhuman traits that they'll see while first touring the building. Come the morning of Day 171, the daily routine will begin. ⇨ THE DAILY SCHEDULE ⇦ ► FIVE MEALS A DAY: Between breakfast, lunch, tea, supper, and evening drinks, the meals you are required to attend are frequent and long. Each meal (except drinks and tea) will have multiple rounds, and use all of the fancy cutlery. It will be difficult to keep up for those that are untrained. The food will vary greatly, but will generally to be palatable to those that are into whatever kind of food it might be. Some of them are odd delicacies that are very much an acquired taste, however. People who cannot eat will be given a pass once the Ringmaster explains it, but will be looked down on for it. ► DAILY ACTIVITIES: There are scheduled activities for every morning and afternoon, and everyone is required to attend. Descriptions of each activity are provided on the "Event Descriptions" tab of the spreadsheet linked up above. There is only one hour of free time scheduled per day, after supper, and beyond that the servants will almost constantly have you on the go. The Prince and Ringmaster will not be present for most of the activities, but they will be there for every meal. If you character refuses to follow the schedule or makes a huge mess out of proceedings, make sure to report it here. ► AFTER CURFEW: At 11PM, everyone is expected to return to their quarters and spend the rest of the night there. Wandering after curfew is unacceptable by the Prince's rules, and if you do it there will be the chance of discover. Based on your character's stealth abilities, there will be dice rolling to determine if they are discovered or not, and by whom. Make sure you report any after curfew activity to the mod post here. This can also take place as an investigation if they are actually looking for something instead of just farting around. ► ROOM AND BOARD: The servants will remain upbeat for most of the time the guests are here, unless something is done to provoke them. They will be present at every activity, and there will be a variety of different individuals. One frequently spotted character will be the butler, a man with dark hair and small, sharp horns. He seems to be the main organizer of things. ► ODDITIES: Even beyond the obvious, there is something off about the Manor. Doors, windows, and other household objects will sometimes move seemingly without cause, and other times there will be banging sounds in the walls, or mysterious voices heard at a distance. It feels like you're being haunted. If you have a moment to wander the corridors, then you'll sometimes see open doors abruptly slam shut the moment you lay eyes on them, and wall sconces turn off or on. It's weird, man. ► THE HUNT: The Hunt activity will have its own event post, and some sign ups for those that will participate meaningfully. There will be some dice rolling to determine who hunts the most impressive game, and rewards handed out accordingly. Before that post goes up, however, you can do some investigations for the start of the event, if your character is interested in looking into the specifics of the contest and overall context. MAKE SURE THAT ALL DECORUM VIOLATIONS ARE REPORTED HERE.

Comments

Foster van Denend | OTA

[criticallyfucked]

Until The Hunt

[criticallyfucked]

A. Meals Days 1-3

Five meals a day is a lot of dining.

That's five times a day that a handful of people are going to be trapped sitting next to (or across from, or diagonal to) Foster van Denend for at least an hour.

And since seating arrangements are not exactly permanent, odds are that eventually that someone will be you.

There are a lot of hazards here. His personality, for one. Fumbled utensils--nevermind if it's the right one or not, he can't hold any of them in his thick, clawed paws. Which means spilled food and lost forks. Not to mention the inevitable drooling.

You won't have to deal with any of them.

Well.

He's still got a pretty unapproachable temperament, but he's not causing a scene. If you don't outright ignore him, the cause is pretty obvious. He's surprisingly quiet and inconspicuous about it, but outside of very carefully drinking water or tea (teacup cradled improperly in both paws), he's... just not eating.

It doesn't matter what meal it is: breakfast, dinner, tea time. The most he eats at all on any day is some bread, or (once) a cucumber sandwich during tea. Mostly he's occupied with trying to keep his claws out of his hair, as that seems to be a constant struggle.

If he catches you looking at him, he just smiles.

It's probably not very reassuring... but do you really want to draw attention to it during the meal?

B. Croquet

Unfortunately, Foster cannot keep his personality under wraps when he's forced to interact with people.

Croquet is... not great. There are too many people taking too many turns, and he's incapable of keeping track of whose ball is whose and whether it's his turn or not. He mostly focuses on sabotaging other players, which is absolutely not a surprise if you know him at all.

If you just went, you probably need to remind him it's his turn. This is probably not the first time you've had to do it.

Otherwise he's just knocked your ball off... again.

...is he... is he picking on you?

C. Evening Games

The first night... seems specifically designed to sabotage his attempts to behave himself. Pass the slipper seems benign but asking him to sit still for so much of the day and then asking him to stand still is pretty frustrating. Charades is worse.

Right now he's... um. He's. Suffering.

He stares at his card for a long, long minute.

The seconds tick by, and the conflict he's experiencing is becoming increasingly obvious.

He doesn't want to play this game.

He really doesn't want to play this game.

His gaze darts off the card, to the side, then back to the card--then he looks up again, at the people around him, then back at the card, his face unreadable. It's nonetheless clear that he's looking for an escape route, an excuse, anything... some inspiration.

But it doesn't come.

Finally, he surrenders to the inevitable and lowers himself to the floor on all fours, where he begins gesturing broadly with one paw in front of his face--a long, sinuous shape--before shaking his head like an animal, broad bovine ears swinging stiffly in the cloud of his barely-contained yellow hair.

D. Closed to Ginko

Foster, in accordance with RM's warnings (and prior lesson about dressing like a loser), is not only complying with the dress code, but he's been having a time not picking at the edges of the fabric with his claws. It's such a relief when curfew approaches and he can shed the sleeveless formalwear that the instant he gets it unbuttoned (a process that takes him about ten minutes of saliva and lost temper and slipped claws), he basically throws the top onto the bed with vindictive force.

At which point the mundane mystery of how he managed to wear anything over all those mushrooms is solved.

His torso is plastered with gauze, thick pads of it held in place with perhaps-excessive amounts of medical tape. Over the fae mark on his chest, on his ribs, on the top of his right shoulder, in multiple places on his back. A couple of pads are stained greenish black and red where the trimmed-back fungus continued to ooze blood and ichor.

Gross.

E. Wild card!

[That's all for now... unless you have a wildcard idea! (People who are tasked with keep Foster out of trouble, that includes you.)

The hunt will be a big thing for Foster because he will be actively participating, though... so that's your cut-off!]

Meal day 172

[hippocarnival]

Foster's claws are already a worry for dinner, and Yuya's reminded of that as they end up seated next to each other. He remembers how hard holding the fork was, so when the actual meal begins Yuya's focus is half-torn between his food and Foster. He's watching out the corner of his eye, which results in occasionally fumbling-- grabbing the wrong fork at first or poking himself by just barely missing getting his food to his mouth.

He doesn't take long to realize Foster habe claimed much of anything for dinner, forgoing the silverware all together. When Foster smiles he raises a brow in response and lowers his fork, keeping his voice low.

"You're not... hungry?" He doesn't want to say 'eating' and implicate him entirely.

[criticallyfucked]

Surrounded as they are by pleasant, forced chatter, Yuya's question probably isn't even noticeable to anyone besides Foster.

Which is more than can be said for Yuya's valiant attempt to put his salad fork up his own nose, but that's Yuya's problem, not Foster's.

"Just thirsty, mostly." Foster responds blithely. He barely takes his eyes off the table itself, his wide, good-natured smile covering for his bald-faced lie. "I wouldn't want to insult our host's hospitality by wasting food."

[hippocarnival]

At least when Yuya pokes himself with lettuce he quickly jerks back and sets his fork back on the plate. Okay, don't eat and talk at the same time. This time he has to actually heed that advice.

Yuya's expression scrunches up as he tries to piece that together, and he looks down at Foster's place to gauge the amount of food he has (or hasn't) grabbed. "I thought it was the opposite that was rude?"

[criticallyfucked]

'Hasn't' is really the key word here. There's a little food there, but it's somewhat obviously been put there more to disguise the emptiness of the plate than to be eaten at all. In fact, it hasn't been touched.

Chicken isn't a very vegetarian choice.

"That's what Lambert said," Foster agrees without much resistance. Then he glances at Yuya meaningfully. "But this is much more discreet."

C

[tacosgay]

Watching Foster try to hold it together in the castle is like watching a dog someone's stuffed into clothing try to walk on its hind legs. Taako watches his attempt at charades, one hand at his mouth to hide the smirk on it, the other resting in his lap atop the layers of skirts he's opted to wear.

His immediate urge is to make some sarcastic guess, or say something rude like "a dickhead," but he knows he'll get in trouble for that, and he's not eager to get in the shit with another fucking fae.

"Uh... hmm, uh, an elephant...?"

[criticallyfucked]

Foster is so glad to be relieved of his role this time that he actually looks it for just a second, and it doesn't occur to him for several seconds that Taako's guess, while correct, raises a pretty elephantine question.

Honestly, this moment is probably the least awkward he's looked the entire time: at least being humiliated is something he's good at. Normally, he thrives on it, and crawling on his hands and knees is practically his ideal. Concepts like 'fun' and 'manners' and 'self-restraint' are basically the opposite of natural, though.

He picks himself off the floor, his clawtips snagging the fine carpetry and snapping a few fibres before he can manage to stop them (but he's not even a little sorry to have caused that minor damage.)

As he reseats himself, though, he leans over and whispers in Taako's ear.

"Your elf world has elephants?"

deposits a shitty child

[pullingamiko]

To her credit, Miko manages to stifle her laughter at Foster's attempt. Mostly, at least. Then she squints over at Taako.

"Wait, you're from, like, a whole world of elves?"

That sounds like some weird nerd crap tbh

D

[dontpokethat]

Ginko supposes there are probably worse people to end up rooming with. He can't think of any at the moment, but there probably are. At least having to share space with Foster is better now than it would have been a few months ago.

He might not be quite as eager as Foster to shed his unwanted clothes, but he still doesn't waste much time in pulling off the jacket and... useless... scarf-thing. He doesn't know what it's called. It's only by coincidence that he glances at Foster while dropping the garments on the floor where they belong.

"--Uh. Foster...?"

He has a lot of questions right now.

I don't have a blank enough face for this.

[criticallyfucked]

Foster is not even trying to deal with the.... pant balloons and the tights. The former are confusing on multiple levels and he has no idea how to get the latter off without shredding them, so he had every intention of just sleeping in them and dealing with the problem in the morning.

But then Ginko interrupts him, and he stops.

He looks back at the deerman, his tail hanging down at his hocks.

"........... what."

[dontpokethat]

"What... happened?" He gestures at Foster's... entire torso, and starts to open his mouth to say something else before thinking better of it. Saying more would be very difficult without sounding concerned, and he can guess how Foster would feel about that.

B - Croquet

[dressedtothe]

From the rules of croquet outlined, 9S had quickly understood that it is a sport where messing with your opponent's shots is well within the rules. He has no problem with that... as long as it's done within the rules. And of course a damned alien isn't going to do it properly, so when it comes to changing game partners, 9S is more than eager to ollie out and be assigned a new one.

One that isn't an alien. Heck yes, for getting someone who's human -- even if he doesn't look it anymore -- to his sensors. Surely this will go better than his match with Lapis! Well, not getting hit in the gut by the ball first thing is already a distinct improvement. Things can only go up from here!

So he's not that bothered by his own ball getting knocked away by Foster; that's perfectly within the rules of the game. But... "Hey, it's still your turn. You get another shot after hitting my ball."

[criticallyfucked]

"I... what?" Foster looks absolutely blank for a moment. Once he'd taken his swing, seen it connect--once he'd had the petty satisfaction of seeing the success of his interference--he had immediately ceased to think about the game, or even pay the remotest amount of attention to it.

"Oh! Haha!" He has had this conversation with several other people at this point of the game. There's a pretty good chance he's sincerely that stupid and incompetent--if it weren't for the servants, there is absolutely no way he'd be able to make his way to and from the bathrooms, for example--but there's still the fact that it's interfering with the progression of the game itself.

"Mmmm...." He considers the field. "Mine was green, right?"

[dressedtothe]

9S can be patient! Sometimes! This is one of those times! Maybe it's because at least the 'interference' is on the field, not body shots.

"Yeah, that's right."

9S casually leans on the handle of his mallet, the head in the grass. Yep, this is so much less stressful than his previous game.

"Wait... did you forget which one's yours?"

Croquet

[spaghettimonster]

"Ah! I had just recovered from the last time... and gotten so perfectly lined up, too!"

Papyrus fumes at the balls as they finish moving, his ball far, far from where it would have been convenient for him to knock it from.

Well, that's assuming he understands the rules. Which is a bit of an assumption, given how they've been getting rushed into activities with brief instruction. Still, keeping track of who the different balls belong to isn't too hard. And once again, the culprit... is Foster.

"Say, you're really competitive, aren't you? I haven't been giving it my all, not like you are!"

[criticallyfucked]

"Giving my all?" Foster echoes, looking legitimately baffled, and laughs. "Oh, is that what I'm doing?"

His guileless act only partially an act. Don't get him wrong, he is absolutely picking on Papyrus on purpose. It's one of the little, acceptable ways he can actually get some of his spite out, and he's smart enough to recognise it.

But giving it his all is a new take.

"Maybe you should play a little harder," he suggests with a smile.

"...though outwitting someone like me should barely take any effort for you!"

[spaghettimonster]

"There's no need to undersell your adversarial prowess!" Papyrus protests, brushing off everything but the self deprecating compliment.

(Un?)Fortunately, Papyrus' opinion of Foster is far less negative than Foster's opinion of himself. Sure, there's some kind of undercurrent here that... reminds him a little bit of bullying. And acknowledging it could make everything uncomfortable...

But nobody's got things stuck where they can't reach. It's fine! He just has to keep being a great example. And twisting words to one's paradigm... it can go multiple ways.

"Not just anybody could sabotage my design so quickly! I'm sure you'll continue to give me a run for my gold."

Re: Until The Hunt

[dorkypantsuit]

He's been watching Foster for a while, seeing him struggle with food was unsurprising. Honestly Psi felt a little bad forcing Foster to have to deal with something like this. That sympathy completely disappears as he watches Foster fuck with everyone's attempts to play an innocent (albeit stupid) game.

"What are you doing?" he asks, as he watches Foster accidentally hit someone else's ball for the fifth time.

[criticallyfucked]

Maybe if the game wasn't so stupid, Foster wouldn't be treating it the way he is. Or maybe not.

Because he's not hitting those other balls on accident... most of the time.

"Playing the game," Foster responds promptly, but the smile on his face--while sincere--is a little too knowing to convince anyone.

[dorkypantsuit]

The Psionic's frown only deepens.

"The way you play is sort of stopping other people from trying to play."

Day 173 - HORSES

[criticallyfucked]

Everyone run, Foster van Denend has been handed the reins to a horse.

Although on the ground, the only person he's a danger to is himself.

The mare he's been paired to is, frankly, way too good for him. A gorgeous cob, she's much less 'hot' than a lot of the horses for this hunt--which are mostly warmbloods, so either Foster got lucky, or the Servants were actually trying to set the man who keeps spacing out at meals up with a horse that wouldn't murder him instantly.

She's very uneasy with his abrupt gestures, though, and his obvious restlessness passes to her. Other times, he's clearly not paying attention--even warned not to walk behind a horse, he still does, and he's narrowly missed getting cow-kicked for his mistake.

He does better when mounted--he's never been on a horse before in his life, but the basic idea of how to ride is fairly intuitive. So as long as they're moving forward, they get along fine.

The problem is that he's too heavy on the reins. Way too heavy.

He's been thrown a couple of times now, both times into thankfully soft dirt, and after getting thrown, she doesn't want to let him back on. Who blames her, really.

[tacosgay]

Taako catches up just in time to catch Foster attempting, and failing, to re-mount his horse, and honestly, he is in no way surprised. Foster van Denand is bad with animals, who would've guessed.

He's riding sidesaddle due to his current outfit, but it seems he's as comfortable riding that way as he is any other way; he rides a velvet black horse, and, while it's no Garyl, it isn't exactly bad-looking, and it seems pretty at ease beneath him.

"She won't have you, huh?" Taako's grin is lazy as he trots up to Foster, stopping nearby to watch from atop his own horse.

[criticallyfucked]

Foster gets along with animals almost as poorly as he gets along with people--the 'almost' is proven mostly by the fact that she doesn't go too far after she bolts, and actually circles back to watch him sitting in the dirt, her tail flicking and ears swivelling back and forth irritably.

"Even animals know better!" He declares with a kind of bitter pride, wiping blood off his lip--and then licking it off his palm. He didn't get kicked or cut it on a rock, mind. The razorlike plates of bone that replaced his teeth are much sharper than teeth themselves would have been.

Too sharp, actually, because the thin sting of the cut itself isn't enough to do much. The taste of his own blood, however--

[tacosgay]

"Yyyeah. I mean, I'm pretty sure eating your own blood in front of her isn't gonna help you win any points, my man, but then again, she is an actual horse. So who knows what she's thinking." Taako slides off of his horse to go over to Foster, offering him a hand to help him up, an almost exasperated kind of smirk crossing his face.