[AW] did you see the words
#1
Spooktober 2020 Prompt: Have you ever gotten the feeling that someone is watching you? Or that feeling of impending doom? Have your character experience something off and how they react to it.

hello there! AW for one. fen is a little under the weather and reminiscing on the Mists from yesteryear; maybe your character joined after those events and isn't used to the spookiness of October, or maybe they've been around the block a few times and have similar eerie feelings as the Councilor!
[+200]
The sweet summer winds grew cool. Autumn was certainly not an unfelt season, and every little change was readily apparent for all to see; the reddening leaves, the shorter days, the dusting of fog that set in every morning.

Ah, yes, that cursed fog. It was back.

She hadn't missed it at all. The cusp of fall left a bitter taste in her mouth, even if she knew it wasn't bound to be nearly as messy as it had been the year before. So long as no one went missing, they would be faring marginally better.

Still, as the seasons changed, Fennore felt something odd taking place within her. Not quite allergies, though she would eventually refer to this 'illness' as such. It took significant energy to rise in the morning, and even when she trekked a short distance from her house, she already felt tired; fatigued, even. Allergies or not, though, the Councilor was far too preoccupied to let it slow her down too much.

At least for now, it was bearable, and she pulled her winter cloak closer to her body. To anyone else, it was a pleasant day, erring on the side of chilly, but nothing unbearable. To her, it was still cold enough to bust out the winter gear already.

A thin layer of mist still clung to the ground as she strode through the Square, occasionally thinking she had heard something over her shoulder, someone calling her name — but turning around would reveal nothing and no one.

Was it just nerves, then? Was she cursed to always be anxious when autumn came? What wretched fate.

Sighing, the wolfess returned her attentions forward again, sniffling and clearing her throat as she continued along.

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#2
OOC: Wordtober oct 3: grotesque | WC: 283

IC:
Arran couldn't say that he was particularly enthused about the mists returning. He had hoped that it was a one-time thing. So far, he hadn't seen any of those weird idol things yet, and he supposed that as long as he didn't wake up to a bloodcurdling scream, it was going well, all things considered.

Or... maybe it wasn't going well for everyone.

Tipping his head to the side, Arran watched Fennore move. She seemed nervous or something. It was difficult to tell with the cloak she was wearing. At any rate, he wanted to ask how Macha was doing. She had been very round the last time he saw her, so he guessed that she was pregnant. Now, though, he wanted to ask how Fennore was doing, too.

With that decided, Arran trotted forward. He made sure that he wasn't quiet because he never wanted to scare anyone or make them think he was sneaking up on him. That went double now that the mists seemed to be returning. Maybe that was just how fall was around here. He hadn't thought to ask anyone from other packs that had been living here for longer. Maybe he should whenever he saw someone else next.

"Hello, Fennore," Arran called when he was close enough. His tail wagged  because he could never quite contain his enthusiasm for spending time with his pack mates, but it was a subdued enough that his whole back end wasn't wagging with the bobtail. "How are you doing?" Now that he could see her better, he tried to get a more clear idea of how she was looking. Maybe a little unwell?
ARRAN
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#3
eee yay!! thank you for joining :DD
[+200]
Eventually there came a moment when her paranoid glances over her shoulder produced results; thankfully not in the form of a vengeful spirit or stranger, even if both of those were nigh impossible in the middle of the Town Square, anyway, but that was besides the point.

She relaxed her stiff shoulders with a slow, measured breath, and Fennore offered him a small smile, a small token of appreciation that he had made his presence known early on and hadn't tried to scare the wits out of her.

"Arran," she called, her voice gravelly before she cleared her throat again. Pausing to let him catch up, she felt the weight of his question pull her mind in a few different directions — in the end, the Moonwraith saw little use in completely side-stepping it. "I... have been better, I suppose."

Another sigh, and she cast a forlorn look to the thin mists. "This fog brings back troubling memories," she said, and surely he understood; when their Queen had first disappeared, Arran had been one of the first ones there on the scene, when blood stained the walls of the Square. He, too, had been amongst those that found her wandering dazed and confused in the Enedwaith.

They never really did find out what had happened to Vodeva, did they? The lack of conclusion, the feeling of unknown: both of these had made this autumn an anxious time, indeed.

"Are you and your kin well?"

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#4
OOC: Wordtober Oct 6: cobweb | WC: 247

IC:
Arran waited patiently for Fennore's response. Sometimes others answered generally, assuming it was just a social nicety and others answered truthfully. Arran much preferred the latter because he really cared how they were doing. If things were not going well, he wanted to help, even if that help was only listening to their troubles. It was part of why he was a Heartward, after all. And really, there was no job too small for him to help with, even if it was just clearing a cobweb that they couldn't reach.

Thankfully, Fennore did answer truthfully, and it was something he could empathize with.

"It does," Arran agreed, glancing around at the mists that surrounded them. he hoped that his pups wouldn't have to experience the same chilling events that had happened last year. "We are. Soron chose to go with their moms when they passed by the pack last, and now Tavor is considering doing the same." Arran understood, but it still made him sad that he wouldn't see them much. But he did know that they would enjoy their adventures with their mothers even if he still wished that the pair would settle down in New Caledonia with the rest of the family.

"Have you seen or heard anything odd this year?" Arran asked then. He hadn't yet, but that didn't mean it was the same for everyone else. Arran really, really hoped that it wasn't the case, though.
ARRAN
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#5
[+300]
Turning slightly from him, she covered her mouth with her elbow and tried to quiet the little cough that followed. There were not many fates worse than enduring a dry throat with no water to soothe it, and she silently cursed herself for not having the foresight to bring along a water skin to remedy this. She would have to suffer that invisible feather tickling just out of reach for now, but thankfully, it wasn't nearly the coughing fit she had feared, and it didn't interrupt the Heartward too terribly.

"Wanderlust is natural for the young," she replied wisely, as if she had any authority to stereotype the young when she was young herself, "Perhaps they will return after they see what this world has to offer." Or they could very well find somewhere else that fit to their tastes even better than New Caledonia did, even if Fennore was biased and considered this a small possibility.

She considered Arran's question and had to refrain from humming in thought, lest she irritate her throat further and incite another bothersome cough. "Aside from the mists, nothing yet," she replied, but it wasn't especially relieving. She had seen no ghastly apparition nor cryptic messages on the Bastion's wall, which was a relief.

Although, there had been something rather strange. "There seems to be quite a large number of moths," she mentioned offhandedly. "Which, while annoying, I will accept over unexplained disappearances and the like any day."

Her ear twitched, the gold earrings there jingling tinnily. "Then again, they might prove problematic for our storage and dye studio..."

While she was no moth expert, the Councilor was indeed privy to their vexing ways. Her home clan had suffered bouts with them before, and they were never a joy to deal with.

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#6
OOC: Wordtober Oct 14: scream | WC: 260

IC:
'Yet' seemed to be the key word here. Maybe they were just being paranoid, but Arran was just waiting for this to get worse again like it had last time. Hopefully it wasn't an annual thing. He'd very much like it if his kids could leave the house without being nervous. Apparently they had heard some stories about what happened before and it had them pretty unnerved.

"I agree," Arran said. Right now, this was definitely better than unexplained disappearances. While they were not exactly pleasant, moths at least seemed to be relatively harmless. "And they don't scream." Although Arran had helped build the studio, he knew very little about dyes or the processes of making and using them. He wasn't sure which part the moths could cause trouble for other than the fabrics, but he hoped they stayed away from it all.

Finally, Arran couldn't take it anymore and decided that he had to be nosey. Fennore's coughing before was suspicious, as was her general appearance... not that he was going to comment specifically on that. Despite what some may think, he wasn't dumb. Besides, it was his job to ask and care about his pack mates.

"Are you feeling okay?" Arran asked gently. "You seem a little off.". He wondered if the cough was just a one-off or if it was an ongoing thing. While he wouldn't be able to help much with physical ailments, he could at least try to find her someone who could if she wanted.
ARRAN
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#7
phew this is a late night mobile post so i hope it is coherent
[+200]
He was perceptive, or at least nosey enough to ask and not let it slide. While she appreciated Arran's concern, she also silently loathed it. Letting on weakness, even one that seemed so mild and was certainly not her own fault, was difficult. It impeded her image.

Then again, Fennore couldn't very well lie to him. With her luck, she would fall into a coughing fit the moment she tried to deny it.

"I am a bit under the weather," she admitted, but her voice suggested it was nothing to worry about. "It must be the season. Either that," she allowed herself a thin smile, "Or perhaps the Realm truly is cursed this time of year."

If the price for an uneventful autumn — free of mysteries and the macabre — was a little cold, so be it. And if it truly devolved into something serious, unlikely as it was, she would enlist Bellad's services. Surely he wouldn't mind humoring her allergies.

"With any luck, it will go away on its own." She was certainly trying to convince herself as much, anyway. Idly, she swept away some of the fog with her foot, only for more to settle in its place.

"I am not keeping you from anything, am I?"

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#8
OOC: one phone post for another! Lol | Wordtober Oct 17 macabre | WC: 215

IC:
Arran’s eyes narrowed a little while he listened to Fennore. For a moment, he thought she might claim that nothing was wrong at all, which was clearly untrue. Thankfully she didn’t try that. Arran didn’t like to accuse anyone of lying. And yet... while he was certainly not hoping for something macabre, he couldn’t help but not quite believe the explanation that Fennore did give. He wasn’t a medic, though, so he couldn’t really say for sure.

“No, not really,” Arran said, tipping his head to the side. He was initially uncertain of what that had to do with anything. He was talking to her, which right now was far more important than anything else— ah. His head straightened as he frowned a little in realization. She was trying to get rid of him, which only made him even more suspicious, and a little hurt that she didn’t want to talk to him.

“You can tell me if something is wrong,” Arran told her. His normally happy posture and expression were instead serious. “I won’t tell anyone unless there’s something dangerous going on.” He wouldn’t be able to let something dangerous go on without trying to stop it, but otherwise, generally, his lips were sealed.
ARRAN
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#9
not sure if you wanna start to wrap this up?! c:
[+200]
It was an odd sight, seeing the ordinarily jovial man suddenly turn stoic and serious. The ivory wraith blinked at him, initially taken aback by his boldness, before sighing softly.

"No, no," she assured with as much conviction as she could manage; the effectiveness of which was dubious at best with her hoarse throat and flat tone. "There is nothing dangerous going on."

Was she giving off that impression? Or was Arran just covering all his bases? Perhaps that was the Heartward in him talking.

"It really is just a cold," she asserted, her words tight and emphasized, before she reeled them back and cleared her throat. "I do not wish to worry you senselessly over it, Arran. But I appreciate your concern nevertheless."

His worry would be better suited for those that were truly sick, she thought, like the Queen. Even almost a year after her disappearance into the Enedwaith, Fennore could still sometimes hear the rattle in her breath when she spoke and see the guarded chill of her gaze.

Initially she wanted to throw him off, if only because repeating herself was tedious, but another idea came to mind, one that might would quell his fears. "I am thinking of visiting the Rhovanion, if you would like to accompany me," she said, a lightly-veiled suggestion rather than a question. "Unless Amon has already taken care of it, I believe that Thalion is due for grooming."

Considering Arran was the one that first showed her the ropes in that field, there was no one better to ask than the herdsman himself.

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