day 5

[mayfield_mods]

[The fifth day doesn't dawn at all. In fact, the sky simply isn't there anymore; the only thing visible if you look up is pure black nothing. Most of the carnival itself is no longer visible, having been blanketed by thick white fog; any attempt to enter said fog will result in your body rapidly disintegrating. The street at least still seems to be intact, but with no way out and the fog slowly creeping in, who knows how long that'll last?

Luckily, it seems like the cavalry has finally arrived.]

(OOC: This marks the last day of the event! Anyone who has won a prize from Mayfield's carnival will be able to access both Mayfield and this area through the funhouse, and will be able to take one person with them on each trip they make. If your character is not rescued by the end of the day, they will be disintegrated by the fog and will wake up the next morning in Mayfield with the standard revival effects. You are free to comment in this post regardless of whether your character signed up for the event.)

Comments

[spitefulvitae]

It's closing in, though. It's quick. I'm surprised I made it here. I...

[She looks where he's indicating, but only for a moment. It's fog. She knows that its fog.]

...creatures like me can heal this for themselves. Don't worry about me. Please.

[a_gentle_boy]

...I'm surprised it can do that. Maybe someone's controlling it.

And it's really alright, Miss Natalie. It's not an effort for me to try at all, I pr --

[Lucas is still in his raised position when the tea table hits a bump up ahead and hops up to avoid it. ...Tables cannot sense fog. Tables weren't even supposed to walk. Whether controlled by a malicious designer or by sheer coincidence, a low-lying patch busily eating a hole in reality that would have been avoided quite easily had Lucas been sitting down, had the table not jumped, had the table's legs been just a little bit shorter, or really, any combination of the above, smothers and consumes the boy.

Lucas's blood does not staunch of its own accord. When the table lands, the remainder of the body is already beginning to soak crimson with the blood. Somewhat disturbingly, there is a very clear point at which the decapitation occurred - right above the lips. ...They are stretched in a soft smile.

It seems a small eternity before the corpse tumbles to the side off the table, but tumble it does. Only a few moments pass before the rest of the body is taken by the fog.]

[spitefulvitae]

Someone likely is. Or it has a consiousness. It's possible th-

[Where did his head suddenly go?]

-at...

[Why was there so much blood? She has seen many hideous things in her short life, but this... no, nothing like this. Not a boy so young. Not a wound so gruesome. She's already reaching out for him, feeling about and soaking her hands in his blood, but it's no use. He's already jostled and slipping into the mist the rest of the way.]

No!

[She couldn't let him go, even as dead as he was. He was security and comfort and... and she had to hold on to him. Which was to no avail. He slipped away, her weight shifted, the table tipped.... and into the fog she went as well, head first.

She didn't leave much of a mess behind, if we're counting the small blessings.]

[a_gentle_boy]

[Weightless and master-less, the lone survivor of this debacle is the tea table. It reaches the funhouse, having grown accustomed to the route it was meant to take, and stands about idly, its presence alone marking the fact that its owner was dead.]